


The Titanium Heart

by SmackTheDevil



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abusive Parents, Anal Sex, Books, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Gen, Group Sex, Heavy Angst, Hook-Up, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Virginity, Love Letters, M/M, Muteness, Past Child Abuse, Promiscuity, Sex, Strength, Top Jared Padalecki, Top Jensen Ackles, Understanding, Writer Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 62,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25358986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmackTheDevil/pseuds/SmackTheDevil
Summary: Jensen Ackles knew what he was about. He knew that he loved good food, fine wine and perfect men. He chased, he caught, he played with and discarded dozens of them. It was all he ever wanted; quick thrills, one night wonders and afternoon delights. No feelings, nor emotions were allowed to tangle with his lifestyle. Jensen didn’t have time for all that, nor did he believe he had the capacity to love.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Other(s)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 99





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> There are elements of past physical and psychological child abuse contained within this fic, please heed the warnings.
> 
> If you don't like the fact that Jensen bottoms in this fic then please do not read on. I don't tend write huge notes of warning before any of my fics but bottom!jensen seems to offend a heck of a lot of people. 
> 
> This is a J2 AU, I used their names and likenesses but beyond that, their characters are my creation. 
> 
> I work so hard writing my fics and I love any comments left, good or bad. But I won't tolerate abuse. Be kind.

Jensen Ackles didn’t quite know what to do with the rocky Maine coastline that jutted up against the new home he had bought. He had been locked inside his own head for years, trapped in a soulless city populated with millions of empty vessels. He had reread the ‘Whitby Bay’ passage from Bram Stoker’s Dracula. A hokey piece of literature in his elitist opinion but the arrival of the Count’s ship on the North Yorkshire coast of England never failed to stir him. That passage alone was immersive enough for him to name the novel as one of his favorites. Jensen hadn’t felt satisfied for a long time and his frustrations as a writer were critical to the point that he was living off royalties from his only literary success and the God awful movie that it had spawned; even a cameo by veteran actor Jon Voight hadn’t been enough to stop the film from bombing in the handful of movie theaters that it was screened in. He still had his novel, the piece of literature that he had worked tirelessly on for over three long years. The work he had lost himself in and with it along the way misplaced relationships and friends, leaving Jensen one of the million vacant bodies he had shared the sidewalk with. Success as a writer came to a person in two different ways. You either became face famous like Rowling or King, losing your anonymity to become as well-known as the characters you wrote about or you remained a mysterious figure recognizable to only a select few, able to loiter in books shops beside your publication or hang around outside the movie theater to listen in on post-viewing reviews. Jensen’s favorite ‘review’ was caught by chance one night after leaving the party of a friend in Greenwich Village. He was passing a small independent cinema when he heard the words ‘ _The Titanium Heart was a beautiful novel, but that movie was a fucking shambles. The author must be spinning in his grave_.’ Jensen had agreed with everything the side-walk commentator had said, including assuming that he was dead. Because for a long time after he had completed his only novel to date, dead was precisely how he had felt. The grief of leaving a piece of work he had so deeply immersed himself in felt like the loss of a loved one; too bereft to even think about ‘lifting a pen’ to write again. It felt like a betrayal of the world he had brought to life and left in print. Jensen felt as if he would never write another word again for as long as he lived.

The young author walked away from his agent, from press interviews, from literary conventions and from the social media that had helped to promote his book but had also spat at him vitriol, hate and endless messages from fans begging for am alternate ending or asking him to read their own take on his novel. Jensen just could not handle the slight fame that came with it, for him writing was a private affair. He had written every last word of it while alone. It was his parent, his child and his lover. His words, his thoughts and his darkest feelings and he was no longer willing to share the depths of his soul with the rest of the world.

*

An architect had abandoned the home that Jensen bought on the Maine coastline, he had built a large modern home out of nothing but wood and glass. The glass seemed endless, wrapping itself around three sides of the split level house giving the building an almost infinite portrait of nature wherever the occupier looked. The elements and isolation had been too much for the architect who found the Maine weather too intense and location too lonely. The fogs that swept up rain and gloom up from the North Atlantic ocean were too much for his sensibilities, the isolation a far cry from his busy city life. The house suited Jensen perfectly, when he drove up to view the place it had been snuggled up in a dense fog, sharp cherry wood angles and little else poked out from the mist as it shifted around the structure while the realtor battled with selling a house the buyer could not see. The photographs on the website had been taken on a bright sunny day, the forests to the side and rear of the property were green and perky, the sea blue and busy, crashing against the low cliff-face. 

“The weather is temperamental, Mr. Ackles." The rattled realtor said, buzzing around his nonplussed client.

“So am I.” Jensen bought the place and closed the sale on that same day. 

*

‘The Titanium Heart’ had been described by one book critic as ‘ _so heartbreaking, it’s almost cruel to the reader_ ’. It had been Jensen’s favorite review. He was damned so why the hell shouldn’t his readers join him. His decision to end the novel without a happy ending had caused problems with his agent, his editor and his boyfriend at the time. Jensen was defiant in his choice and enjoyed the thought of thousands of his readers feeling as bereft and as empty as he was as they closed the cover of the book for the last time. He had been called vindictive but he saw it as honesty. ‘ _If they want to see a happy ending, take them to see a fucking Disney movie_ ’. Jensen enjoyed critique and censure more than was right because he knew that much of it was wrong. As far as he could see, there was no right or wrong when it came to story-telling, at least where style and subject were concerned. He believed that fiction should hold as much truth as fact, it was his one and only rule. Jensen wasn’t adverse to praise either but even then it had to be for the right reasons. A review where the writer had missed the point was useless to him and held little weight. ‘ _Well-written_ ’ was the biggest cop-out when it came to vapid and boring reviews. A telephone directory is well-written if you consider the time and effort it took to collate the names, addresses and numbers from thousands of people, only to arrange them into an easy to access reference book. 

Jensen’s personal standards of what he expected out of all aspects of life were high. He had felt _every_ word that he had thought and then typed, often discarding entire five-thousand word chapters that many would argue were ‘well-written’ because the passage made him feel nothing. Food had to taste intense and interesting, flavors were expected to conjure up memories and leave him satisfied, even an upset stomach and a burned out ass hole after eating too-spicy food was worth the pain, just to endure the fire of a rich, spicy dish. His coffee was always dark and strong, his wine heady and aromatic. Clothes were comfortable and often made with fabrics that hung just right and fit his body with a structured ease. Bland was not a word that figured in Jensen Ackles’ life. There was no dull, middling nor mediocre. Some would call them impossible standards.

*

Men were a huge problem Jensen had always thought. It was a rare soul who would live up to his exacting standards. Kevin had fit once until even he ran out of energy trying to keep a man like Jensen happy. In the four years they had been together, the idea of their living together or even lasting to the next the day was always only ever a thought that floated in the air between them. Jensen’s love affair with his novel killed them in the end. ‘ _I can’t be around someone who I feel as if I should be on duty all the time. And I won’t play second fiddle to a fucking book_ ’, Kevin had told him one gray Tuesday afternoon. Jensen had enjoyed the rain that day, and wasn’t concerned that Kevin had called him ‘ _a selfish, over-indulgent cunt_ ’. Jensen had admired Kevin’s honesty and could do little else but agree with him. The fight that ended their relationship was the most passionate Jensen had felt during the entire four years.

Jensen resorted to hook-up apps for company, although he hated the phrase but the process suited his demeanor. Easy to flick through dozens of unsuitable looking men and discard them in the privacy of his own home rather than dealing with the rigmarole of vapid flirting then ultimate rejection in a public place. With Grindr he was expected to be picky, the entire essence of the app was for those seeking a quick thrill to find exactly what they wanted with no guilt (not that Jensen often felt guilt in that kind of scenario) although he imagined that many weren’t as fastidious as he was when it came down to seeking out a man to suck their cocks. The last time he ‘hooked-up’ in the city, it was the night before he left his apartment for the last time. He knew that the likelihood of his having as much choice living out in the sticks was slim and besides he hated how soul-destroying and dull masturbation was.

Jensen had matched with a man called Rafe whose name immediately conjured up images of some closeted World War One solider in the trenches at Flanders having a muddy ‘ _we could die soon_ ’ love affair with his senior officer. Grindr Rafe was nothing like Jensen had imagined at all, but he was handsome, a professional and looked well-groomed in his photograph. He had made an effort to write a brief bio about himself and Jensen was pleased to see that the man could spell. Rafe messaged him first.

**Rafe:** Blow job?

 **Jensen:** Yes

 **Rafe:** Address?

Jensen could forgive the man for his economy of words since he was on a tight schedule and simply wanted his dick sucked. Rafe was stood at Jensen’s door within thirty minutes wearing a made-to-measure light gray suit and lavender silk tie. Jensen could tell by the weave and the sheen that it was silk, muted colors that toned with Rafe’s pale blue eyes. Jensen offered him a drink, a glass of Bordeaux and sat himself down in his leather armchair after stripping down to his loose cotton boxers. He had just showered and was still damp which made the fabric cling to his ass and the back seam disappear between his round glutes. Rafe commented, Jensen told him in no uncertain terms that he was ‘ _not a bottom, darling_ ’.

The chair was too shallow and not wide enough for Jensen to open his legs fully to accommodate Rafe’s wide frame comfortably after his guest had relieved him of his underwear. The fact that he had folded them hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jensen assured Rafe that he didn’t mind him squeezing himself between his curved thighs and that the pain of his legs pressing into the unforgiving firmness of the armchair was all part of the game. Rafe had big hands Jensen noticed as they were laid over his legs; he had always been heavy around his hips and thighs, and often big hands that off-set them were hard to come by. Jensen liked his men to be men, he liked them tall and big and as masculine as was possible. A beard was okay if it was well-tended and tidy, body hair he could take or leave, hairy backs were a no-no.

Rafe smelled of strong, expensive cologne which went straight to Jensen’s dick, sending a surge blood so fierce that it lifted from his thigh and slapped over his groin with fervor. The man had taken his jacket off and draped it over the couch, Jensen enjoyed seeing the muscle move under Rafe’s crisp white shirt as he levered himself tightly between Jensen’s legs which made them both groan. Wedged in and bent from the waist, Rafe sucked Jensen’s dick into his mouth while his hands gripped two heavy thighs. His technique wasn’t the best Jensen had known as he held the man’s tie up and away from his body, almost like a noose. Jensen paid extreme attention every second of his life and noted the muffled grunt that came from Rafe’s throat as Jensen tugged on his necktie. It would crumple, Jensen thought but would be easy fixed. The soft noises were delectable, that unmistakable sound of a penis being sucked. Wet and hollow punctuated by gentle moans and the occasional inhale as Rafe took in the scent of Jensen’s neatly trimmed strawberry blonde pubic hair. The scent was his own, having showered with odorless products for the occasion. Jensen sipped his wine, setting the glass down on his desk then laid a hand of encouragement against Rafe’s hair, thick blonde, a shade or two lighter than his own head of hair.

“Hm.” A hum, nothing more as Jensen’s cock locked into the back of Rafe’s throat and saliva pooled in the small crevice in between his balls. “Good.” As reviews went, it was the best Jensen could do. He concentrated on the cologne, the muscle under Rafe’s shirt and how his eyelashes were settled against his cheeks. He took in his mouth, how his lips brushed against Jensen’s pubic hair and the location of his dick; lodged inside the throat of a stranger. The orgasm was standard but not intense and Jensen had no qualms in reacting accordingly. He grunted softly as nature took over and gripped Rafe’s hair as came down his throat. An anti-climax of sorts but not unpleasant. 

Afterward, Jensen cleaned up and they finished the same glasses of wine which were poured before their unremarkable dalliance. Jensen declined to pass on his personal details to Rafe, moving out of state had been the best excuse he had ever given for not pursuing what would have been a lackluster love affair. After all, it was the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

The fog that had been so persistent in denying Jensen a decent view of the home he was about to buy had stuck around for three weeks and Jensen admired its tenacity. It had permanently encased the house, pressed up against the three glass walls like children peering into a candy store window. Jensen hadn’t seen the view but believed that it would reveal itself at precisely the right time. Even Jensen’s high standards couldn’t deny the will of the weather. Early October was cold but Jensen wouldn’t have known it, the house was incredibly warm served by an open brick fireplace which sat in the center of his living room and underfloor heating. Nothing in the house was where it should be, a quirk which was instrumental in Jensen parting with a sizable sum of money for the property. The house was on solid stilts, raising it from the ground with steps leading up to the front door set into the thick cherry wood wall that was one side of the structure. Inside, the wall continued to the back of the property and up to the second floor, hiding only the open plan kitchen downstairs and the bathroom upstairs. The remainder of the house was on full view to the occasional flock of seabirds, at least it would be as soon as the fog had lifted. 

With no real walls, the few pieces of art that Jensen had collected over the years sat propped up against the glass, carefully placed to coincide with the fall sunsets that Jensen was yet to enjoy. A reproduction of Klimt’s ‘The Kiss’ he thought would lend itself well to being spotlighted by the sun. An indulgent painting Jensen had always believed but that was what he loved about it. Unapologetic and brash in color. With no separate room to call a study, he set up his desk against the window facing out onto the The North Atlantic ocean and all that it had to throw at him. There had been little inspiration to be had looking out over the commercialism of Central Park. The new view was insisting on evading him as were ideas, at least ones that had meaning or legs. Jensen had resigned himself to the fact that ‘The Titanium Heart’ would be his _magnum opus_ and that everything to come after that would be dire and desperate. But then he was loathe to spend the rest of his life in artistic turmoil churning out romance novels only worthy of publication by Harlequin. Sickly sweet bodice ripping love stories that burned the loins of menopausal women but no one else of note. Not that he was likely to begin a career in writing heterosexual romance, an author wrote about what he knew.

Patience wasn’t usually a virtue that Jensen practiced, three years writing his debut novel had tested it to its maximum capacity and yet Jensen seemed to have learned nothing. As well as wanting his wine to flavorfully fuck his palate, he wanted everything done yesterday too. Jensen didn’t need to be told that he was a narcissist with overreaching high standards which put him in a position of grasping at impossible life expectations. His constant disappointment burdened by his necessity to overreach was his own unraveling. 

* 

The fog brought with it a bad internet connection and confirmation that the north east coast of Maine wasn’t exactly a hotspot for endless hook-ups. The town that Jensen lived on the edge of was quiet and close-knit but not awash with single homosexual men keen to put the author out of his misery. He extended his search to the next town and beyond, finding only one decent looking man located several hours away. Sexting was beyond and indeed below him, if he wanted to read something erotic he had plenty of books to keep him sexually occupied. No stranger on the end of an app was going to satisfy his current need. It had been twenty-two days since his last sexual encounter with a man, Rafe and his heady cologne that Jensen could still taste long after the man had left his apartment. The scent had kept him going until morning, it had been the most exciting ‘episode’ of onanism Jensen had experienced for many months. It had kept him thinking for the rest of the day, how the power of scent hung around far longer than the fact. Sometimes, simply the idea of a certain type man was enough to sate the strong urges Jensen felt on an almost daily basis. Mostly he felt so wretchedly alone that self-love left him unsatisfied and depressed. 

*

Whichever straight-laced movie executive decided that the three page group sex passage in ‘The Titanium Heart’ should be cut from the final edit of the screenplay, only to be included in the movie as a brief description via voice over by the protagonist was the worst kind of person imaginable to Jensen. He had barely been involved in the production of the film, as far as the creative minds bringing it to the screen were concerned, they now owned the rights and could do as they pleased. They had flayed the book, stripped it of everything that had made it a best-seller in the first place. It was dulled and muted for viewers with more delicate sensibilities. It was all about getting asses on seats, a lower rating meant more people would see it. Money. Money. Money. Jensen stepped away from the production entirely and was disinclined to hear about anything coming from the movie set. The wrong people had been cast, the story had been trimmed and scenes had been discarded and thrown away, leaving in its a wake a meek story with no heart, no soul and no fucking sex. Censoring had been the movies undoing which ultimately lead to it’s poor performance at the box-office. Jensen took great comfort from that.

Jensen grabbed one of his many copies of his own book from a tall sturdy bookcase next to his desk. He had thirteen copies of it, several of which had been produced in different languages. He had enjoyed reading the French translation of the book, ‘Le Coeur En Titane’ and owned copies in Spanish and German too, along with a first edition hardback and several with limited edition cover art he had specially commissioned by an old artist friend. As he sat on his long comfortable L-shaped leather couch, he glanced up briefly at the awards the book had won lined up on the top shelf of bookcase. Most of them were ugly lumps of metal and glass, his favorite was of a large bronze penis marking the books win for ‘Best Sex Scene’ voted by the glittered visitors of a gay website called ‘fuckinginpink.com’. He liked it because it was ridiculous and it had made him laugh, a friend had flinched when Jensen was notified of the award because Jensen had laughed out loud and that itself was a rarity.

The sex scene in question; the orgy, had been one of Jensen’s most enjoyable passages to write because it had been one of the most erotic experiences of his life and he was able to relive it and hold the memory in print for all and sundry to read for as long as their were copies of the book on the earth. _’Were you writing from experience?’_ was one of the many repeated questions Jensen was asked during his book tour and the endless PR interviews he’d had to live through. Jensen had answered honestly. ’Yes, there is truth in that fiction’. His honesty lead to a sensational headline in various gossip publications reading _YOUNG AUTHOR IN ORGY SCANDAL_. It was the first time Jensen had been amused by public reaction to his book and he enjoyed that time too because they went about the story as if they had revealed a dark secret in Jensen’s past when in fact he himself had done it already by including it in his novel. The author had never once viewed his sex life as dark nor secret.

Jensen had wanted to do something different for his thirtieth birthday, an occurrence that happened nine years ago. Never a fan of parties of the celebratory kind, he decided to mark the occasion by organizing a day and night of unadulterated fucking. He found three men just in time for his birthday, having spent a good few months searching for precisely the right kind of people. He needed handsome, well-groomed, professional, sexually clean, open-minded to the point of depravity and available on March 1st. He accepted one invitation from friends to celebrate his turning thirty two days before the fact; a meal out by way of compensation of their missing out on his actual birthday. Jensen told the table his plans for the day, not one was surprised. 

“Fantasy rarely lives up to ones expectations.” A friend of Jensen’s took pleasure in reminding him of the old adage.

“This will.” Jensen had replied with arrogant confidence. 

*

It had been snowing heavily in New York that winter, it was one of the few things Jensen enjoyed about the city. His apartment was as warm as toast, his bedroom however an ambient temperature more suited to close quarters group fucking. Jensen wanted to feel like the last man on earth that day, everything had to be perfect. His version of the orgy in his book was word for word, moment by moment because it wasn’t an experience that he wanted to forget. Jensen _would_ never forget it, it had to be immortalized in print. 

Jensen and his selected men sat around the living room coffee table in dress pants, shirts and loosened ties. All three of his conquests had come fresh from their respective offices and were enjoying a bottle of red to wind down after a full days work. David was a stock broker, an ex-power lifter who had given it up in favor of good food and gentle jogging. A dark-haired beast of a man who looked like he had been shoe-horned into his clothes. Ben was slight but tall with the body of a dancer, wiry and slender, chosen for his open mind and Ryan, who was the youngest of the four men at twenty-three, dark blonde with a fairly untouched body and a stomach rolling with tiny defined abs. They had all met privately prior to that night, Jensen wasn’t taking any chances. They all had to like one another. Jensen favored David. And it was David who kept Jensen’s mouth occupied while he, Ben and Ryan undressed him. One of Jensen’s stipulations was his dislike at being restrained in any way, David had asked him why.

“Because it pisses me off that it arouses me so much. I’m not a submissive.”

The statement seemed have gone over David’s head and completely forgotten by Ben and Ryan as Jensen found himself spread open, legs pinned under two bodies to accommodate two large men between them. David held Jensen’s arms up and above his head while receiving a pissed of scowl as Jensen arched his back away from the couch out of sheer defiance. 

“You wanted a ‘quick, filthy blow job’.” David muttered into Jensen’s mouth as two tongues lapped at his cock, already stiff with anticipation of the evening ahead. 

“Cunts.” Jensen hissed but allowed it to play out because he felt so fucking aroused. He shut his mind down, concentrated on kissing David and the sensation of two keen, wet mouths working his dick. His legs were painfully spread apart but he enjoyed the rub of cotton pants and leather belts against his inner thighs, two solid bodies prizing them apart. David was an excellent kisser, deep and sensual and liked to mutter into Jensen’s mouth. It was decent dirty talk for the author to hear, a running commentary of what was happening between his legs.

“They both love your cock, can’t get enough of it.” David whispered, deep and heavy into Jensen’s swollen, sloppy mouth. “Look at them.” And Jensen did, turning his head. His mouth was open, tongue still licking at David’s. The two men were locked together by their lips, kissing around Jensen’s cock that pulsed so violently it caused Ryan to shoot Jensen a look of surprise. The author nodded, took in a little more visual then turned back to David. “What you imagined?”

“More.” Jensen groaned. “More than.” He came fast and dirty as he had requested, feeding grunts into David’s mouth until he was at the helm of a sticky four way kiss which made his spent dick rise limply from the top of his thigh.

*

Ben and Ryan were laid on the living room floor, naked and wrapped around one another, putting a show on for Jensen and David who were spread out on the couch sharing a glass of wine and chatting idly about sex. David was still fully clothed, laying between Jensen’s generous thighs.

“If you gave into the fact that you enjoy it, you’d enjoy it all the more.”

“No, I disagree.” Jensen shook his head. “The first reaction is always the right reaction. The thought of being a submissive pisses me off because it goes against what I think I know about myself. If I gave in to those ‘heat-of-the-moment’ urges I feel when it’s beyond my control, then it becomes a part of me that I do not like. Fighting it and _then_ allowing it happen because my body wants it is the key.”

“Mind over matter.”

“No, body over mind. My mind tells me I like men, for example. But my body is torn.”

“You’re bi?”

“No.” Jensen laughed, just a little. “I have a friend-” He glanced over at the two naked men on his living room floor. ‘-she comes to visit, just once in a while to help me out with a regression fantasy of mine.” Jensen looked back at David. “Do you remember those times, when you were young and sex was all you could think about. That first moment your dick got hard, the first time you came by your own hand. And those stolen moments at high school, quick thrills and uncomfortable but beautiful inappropriate erections. I adored those times, everything was new and so base. So lacking in finesse. The need to get off every second of the day. I like to relish in good times, in good feelings and experiences. My friend works at MIT now, we went to college together and she escorted her debts away but she occasionally puts herself out there, for very much the same reason as I ask her to visit.”

“You fuck?” David asked. The question amused Jensen because he could feel David’s cock against his groin, pulsing and throbbing. 

“It’s not about sex. No, it’s deeper than that. We put on a movie and sit right where we are now. She usually wears something unremarkable, like a pair of jeans and a light button down shirt. It’s all very innocent until I regress back to my youth and remember what it was like to have a pretty girl with beautiful tits sat next to me in the dark. All of those feelings flood back. The keenness to get my dick wet and fuck, to feel my first breast.” Jensen paused, smirking up at David, a gay man who was rapt by Jensen’s story-telling and aroused to complete hardness. “I do the thing.” He laughed again, glancing once at the naked men on his rug who were now gently fucking just out of eye sight. “I cup her left tit, just through the shirt. My friend, she isn’t modestly endowed like a high-schooler any more. Her breasts are large and very round, all natural. They are her best asset, after her brain.” Jensen looked up at David, interrupting his story. “Undress for me, I feel it will save us time when I’ve finished.” 

David obliged, leaving Jensen to pause a little longer so he could silently watch the unveiling. He had seen David naked once before after he was selected for the night, they had fucked to test their compatibility. David had been Jensen’s instant favorite. His cock was large and heavy, bigger than all three men present and its revealing started a collective gasp around the room. Jensen took a moment to collect his thoughts as a now naked David settled back between his thighs.

“She never wears those ghastly padded bras women seem to favor today, in all fairness she doesn’t need to but they’re always lace and cup her breasts perfectly. We watch the movie while I massage her tit through her clothes and wonder about what my Mother would say if she could see me. And then I unbutton her shirt, just enough to slip a hand in over her bra. I feel her nipple at that point, just gently grazing the palm of my hand. It goes straight to my dick the moment I feel it and it takes me back to the late summer afternoon of ‘95 when Rachel Dormer allowed me to do the same thing to her. I stuff my face with vile sugary popcorn while I get up the nerve to slip my fingers inside her bra until I have a huge heavy tit in my hand.” Jensen groaned, an entirely involuntary noise. A memory of a memory. “Fuck, suck my nipple.” He said, turning his body to offer the treat to David who wrapped his mouth around it without any further encouragement. “I tell myself that it’s my first dalliance with a forbidden body part and fuck, I believe it and I am in genuine awe as I pull that tit out of her bra. It just heaves out over the wire and hangs there, so full and soft. Her nipple is like a bullet, ugh that was a poor word choice. But still, I’m sucking the thing down in moments and I can smell how turned on she is. She’s wet right through her jeans. But I don’t care about it, not much. As a teenager, going anywhere near a pussy was a touch too far, as a gay man, even more so.” Jensen smirked through a light hiss as David sucked his nipple like a hungry piglet. “She jerks me off because that’s what always happened in high school. I hold her tit the entire time and she jacks my juvenile cock until I’m jizzing inside my ironed by Mother cargo pants. And I’m coming like it’s 1995.”

“Fuck.” Jensen heard the word come from Ben’s lip. He snapped his head to look at him, the story had got to him too.

“So you’re bisexual?” David asked again, which riled Jensen but not enough for him to stop enjoying having his own little man tit sucked. 

“No. Fuck!” Jensen rolled his eyes and glanced at the two slow fuckers on his expensive Persian rug, anything to keep his slight anger from overtaking his arousal. “I cook for myself several times a week, that doesn’t make me a fucking chef.” 

* 

Jensen’s love for David waned somewhat after that point, instead favoring Ben for understanding his love for big tits and what a regression kink meant. David was sidelined for a couple of hours, left to have his fun with inexperienced Ryan which he didn’t seem to mind, while Jensen fucked Ben into his bed twice which made the author ponder if he should have talked to David more before accepting him into the fold. He was dumb, and dumb for Jensen was a turn off.

The orchestration behind the sexual crescendo of the night couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Jensen felt like an emperor, not a king since emperor’s seemed to get a lot more done that kings ever did. He was laid out on his back with Ben seated on his cock which even after a night of fucking was still game, while David and Ryan flanked him, kissing and stroking; both spent after Jensen had sucked them off in his mouth simultaneously. Ben was striking to look at, Jensen thought for a moment he could become his muse as he cast his eyes up the long length of his body, cock hard half and dripping over Jensen’s stomach. The author’s final orgasm of the night was intense and felt like a gift, his mouth issued a string of mumbled expletives and deep groans against two tongues, every inch of his body was on fire. But Jensen knew, even then that the night was never going to be the night of the best sex of his life, no matter how incredible he felt.

*

Jensen took a photograph of the three naked, sleeping men in his bed the next morning after his first shower of the day and before breakfast. It was agreed that the night been a success as they parted and while Jensen had made a secret pact with himself to hold David back for a morning of one-on-one sex, his mind had been changed. He called Ben back into the house claiming the man had left his phone behind. Jensen watched Ben walk back up to the front door, patting his inside jacket pocket and locating his phone. He smirked.

“Can you take the morning off, darling?”

“Yes, for you I can.” Ben glanced over his shoulder as David and Ryan vanished from view, before stepping back into the apartment for a morning of love making. Ben had called it that, Jensen declined, since there was no ‘love’ involved. ‘Slow fucking’ worked better if one wanted to give the act a label.

*

“What is it like to be the best looking man in a room?” Ben said, idly sucking Jensen’s floppy dick by way of a lunchtime treat. Jensen laughed which Ben initially mistook as modesty.

“It’s a burden.”

Five minutes after Ben had left, Jensen sat down at his computer and wrote the first line of ‘The Titanium Heart’.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early November by the time the fog lifted, shifting away from the house as if being rewound and sucked back over the Atlantic ocean. Jensen hadn’t left the house in four weeks, there had been no need to. He’d had a daily wander around his land, dallied with the low cliff edge which on most days he’d had to guess its location. He enjoyed the risk of a slip into the sea. Venturing further, and perhaps visiting the town which was an hours car journey away was only ever going to be necessary when he had run out food. November fourth became that day. Jensen had lived on black coffee, red wine, fruit and cheese since he had moved in, in fear that his new sedentary lifestyle could assist in piling on pounds. His vanity wouldn’t allow it.

Jensen had passed the town briefly the day he moved in and had seen photograph’s online, it sat further along the coastline from where his modern home was located. A home he had found that had disgruntled the locals, with all its sharp angles and endless glass, seen as not in keeping with the aesthetic of a town called Everfall. Everfall had been a small but busy port over one hundred years ago but now served as a small fishing town, dragging Maine lobster in from the ocean and housing those who wanted a more ethereal and rugged weekend retreat away from city life. Jensen was informed by his realtor that despite the locals disdain for the modern structure, he was more likely to be accepted into the fold of the community since his house was to be occupied all year around disliking ‘weekenders’ more than anything. Jensen had found that amusing.

“Oh, no. They won’t like me. They won’t like me at all.”

Jensen already had an arsenal of words and reasons to set upon anyone who confronted him about his house, well-equipped to stand up for a building that could not speak. It was unfortunate then that the house should be instrumental in giving Jensen his first headache in his new home. Headaches were a common ailment to deal with for the author; a writer spends little time out of doors. Vitamin D evaded him constantly. So it was a surprise to wake up to a fog-less vista and find himself assaulted by the sun. It was horrendously bright in Jensen’s bedroom, a room he decided would require blinds of some kind because morning headaches felt as if they had been dished out by the Devil. The early morning had always been the most profitable time of day for Jensen to write, if he missed that window between 5am and 6am to begin, he wouldn’t even attempt to write until giving it another shot the next morning. 

His headache persisted through his shower and breakfast and his search for painkillers came up with nought. The box labelled ‘Medications’ containing old bottles of anti-depressants, Advil, Alka-Seltzer, Band-Aids and everything else a person would fill their bathroom cabinet with had clearly been mislaid during the move. Jensen wasn’t annoyed by its absence, in fact he was rather pleased that he hadn’t needed any of those items in the past four weeks. Headache aside, living in the countryside by the sea was good for ones health, Jensen hoped that his soul would heal itself too.

*

Not a soul on earth could ever accuse Jensen of being sentimental, as much as he lived to be moved, his life was about moving on constantly to the next thrill and then the next, no qualms about leaving sadness in the past. When life had so much to offer him, it did no good to dwell on tragedies of days gone by. As he breezed past the coastline in his aged jeep, Jensen leaned forward and switched his CD player on, a little dated perhaps but he enjoyed physical copies when it came to all kinds of media. Clare de Lune by Debussy became his soundtrack as he passed low cliffs, the road dipping into dense countryside, hugged by Autumnal trees while leaves were kicked up the jeeps tires. The music had been a favorite of his Mother’s, the woman who saw the talent of a writer in her son long before he even knew it. She hadn’t lived long enough to see his success. 

The exhilaration of the country around him and the dull headache that was reminding him that he was alive brought a rare tear to Jensen’s eye. A flash of memory from his Mother’s funeral wormed itself into his mind, the pianist sat by her coffin playing Clare de Lune almost perfectly. Jensen sucked in a breath then exhaled as his morbid and unwanted thoughts were abruptly interrupted by chaotic introduction of drums from the ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ overture which sent him to a far off place of musical bliss long after he had parked his jeep up in town. Jensen cranked up the volume, allowing the speakers to vibrate and goosebumps to break out over his body. Music was often like snorting a line of cocaine, that instant sensation of being that spread through his body. He had left cocaine in his past but music had stayed with him. Jensen was aware that the sound was carrying through his car and filtering out onto the quiet street, passersby glared at him for his noise pollution. Although Jensen would never allude to refer to his musical taste as a blight on the environment, one should always listen to an overture until the end.

*

The drugstore was small but well-stocked as Jensen wandered the narrow aisles filling his basket up with slightly overpriced home remedies and medications, adding to it a large box of condoms and a few tubes of lube; never one to lose hope in someday getting laid in this tiny town. Jensen filled up on everything since deciding that his rare excursion out would be his excuse to hoard and hide again. The look of displeasure at his groaning basket as he set it on the counter gave him a tick of a smile. 

“Do you have your own bag? Because we prefer our customers to bring their own bags.”

“I do not.” Jensen said curtly as he tapped his credit card on the counter.

“Our sustainable cotton reusable bags are five dollars.” 

“Fine.” Jensen sighed, waving a hand at his basket. “Just add it to the total.” He said, disinclined to get into a set-to with the cashier over why he doesn’t own a ‘bag for life’.

“You’ll find that _all_ of our stores here require each customer to bring their own bag.” The cashier, a woman of late middle age with a dated beehive hair style explained as she rung each item up, packing it all into Jensen’s brand new bag. 

“I don’t doubt that for a second.” 

“You bought the house, didn’t you?”

‘ _The house_ ’. The infamous house that the community hated but seemed incapable of expressing their true feelings about to the new owner. ‘ _Hideous monstrosity_ ’ was what they really wanted to say. Jensen was in the mood for a game, the music had roused him.

“The house?” Jensen smiled. “You’re going to need to be a touch more specific.”

“1254 along the bay.”

“Uh, the house in question, that’s if we’re referring to the same property has been renamed ‘Whitby’.”

“Has it?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you went through the correct channels to do that?”

“I did.”

“What is it you do again?”

The cashier was up on her knowledge about Jensen, he could just imagine the meetings they’d had about the newcomer.

“What were you told?”

“Well, that you’re a writer.” She said as if telling Jensen what his occupation was because he had just awoken from a five year coma and had no clue about himself.

“If you knew, why did you ask?” The cashiers reply was interrupted by the jangle of the dainty brass bell hanging over he door. Jensen could not help but notice the collective looks of horror on the faces of the cashier and the two pharmacists at the back of the store. And then the smell hit him, a strong acrid body odor with the faint scent of the sea. Jensen took a covert step to one side to distance himself, although it did little to eradicate the smell that had pitched up inside his nostrils.

“Jesus.” Jensen muttered, turning his head away before taking a chance to steal a look at the person standing at the counter. The man was tall, taller than Jensen who at six foot one suddenly felt his stature shrink to a more diminutive size. His hair was long and he was heavily bearded, nigh on impossible to age. One of the pharmacists stepped forward and took a piece of paper from the man, which Jensen assumed was a prescription then watched as he took a seat on one of two chairs in a small waiting alcove and pulled out a hand-held video game which bleeped into life the moment it was in his hands. Jensen had never been one for wasting time on video games but the noise was familiar and reminded him of an old battery operated Space Invaders game he played with as child back in the eighties. 

Jensen shot the cashier a pained look, keen for her to get a move on with scanning his basket, as his senses were assaulted with the wrong kind of smells and sounds as the high pitched beeping played havoc his slowly returning headache which had cleared somewhat during his drive into town. The drugstore employees however, Jensen noticed, could be speedy when they wanted to be and were handing over the man’s _plastic_ carrier bag full of medications in mere seconds. The sight of the offending bag made Jensen’s eyebrows mingle having been guilt tripped into parting with five bucks for his environmentally friendly tote.

“There, Jared. Is that all?” The pharmacist flinched as the bag was snatched from his hand which Jensen figured seemed to come from a place of fear rather than rudeness. The man answered by plunging his hand into a see-through drum of multicolored lollipops by the cash register and scattering them over the counter. He paid by using one of those coin dispensers children have to keep their pocket money in which was hung around his neck, pushing the quarters across the counter with one dirty finger. Jensen was fascinated, and not because he had come across what could only be described as Everfall’s eccentric (every community has at least one) but because on closer inspection, under the impressive dark beard, lank hair and mist of body odor was what could be a very handsome man. Jensen chuckled to himself because he was instantly reminded of those second-rate depictions of a handsome white-washed Jesus in hard core religious publications. A good-looking messiah to appeal the masses. 

The man, Jared shoved the cacophony of colorful lollipops into his bag and shuffled out of the drugstore which seconds later was filled with a fog of artificial rose scented air freshener, sprayed with vim by ‘beehive’ lady who had discarded Jensen’s basket in order to clear the air by making it a million times worse. Jensen had never known such an eventful nor long-winded trip to the drugstore in his life. As his basket was finally rung up, bagged and paid for, Jensen could not hold his tongue a moment longer, even if he knew that his subsequent words would surely make him him an ‘enemy of the state’.

“Since you were entirely unapologetic about forcing me to spend five dollars on a tote bag, would it not then be in your best interests to use your skills as a saleswomen to sell that poor soul a cake of soap?”

“I-uh.” 

“No, because _that_ would be seen as unkind, wouldn’t it?” Jensen cocked an eyebrow and strolled toward the door before stepping outside into the fresh air that swept up from the ocean. Jared was still outside, strapping his bag of medications and sweets into the basket on the front of an antiquated bicycle. Jensen watched him for a moment, noticing that Jared had a small sign strung around his neck alongside the bright yellow money dispenser which read ‘Thank you’. He was instantly intrigued by him, people interested him. As they did everyone else. Jensen had once argued that his interest in people was no different to anyone else’s after an acquaintance suggested that his fascination was because he wrote.

‘ _People are interested in people, not certain demographics. It is why we seek out friends and lovers. We need people to stimulate us, it is as simple as that_.’

The author continued to watch Jared, pretending to fish around his pocket for the keys to his jeep. The man looked harassed, as if the experience of conversing with people had been the low-light of his day.

“Are you okay?” Jensen asked in a soft genuine tone of concern. Jared stiffened but lifted the ‘thank you’ sign around his neck. "Right.”

Slightly perplexed Jensen left Jared to his bicycle loading, returning to his jeep to put his expensive new bag in front of the passenger seat, a bag he was sure would be secreted under his kitchen sink, never to be used again. He dug around for the bottle of Advil and took a few dry. The action of popping pills in his car as he leaned over the drivers seat triggered a memory which had him clicking open the glove box.

“Ha ha.” Jensen laughed as he discovered two prescription containers of anti-depressants. He picked them up, giving them a jaunty shake then tossed the almost full bottles into his bag. The consume-by dates were a touch dicey but Jensen believed that only added a little extra spice to the effect of the medication. Jensen had not once been to see any kind of doctor, medical nor mental in his life but he knew people who knew people who could get their hands on prescription narcotics at a fair price. A fairer price Jensen believed than forking out for therapists. He didn’t need to pay a doctor to tell him what he was like, why he couldn’t make relationships last or successful, or any of the reasons why he was like he was. Jensen knew it all, and was resigned to live with his character flaws forever with the occasional aide of questionable narcotics.

Jensen was in a rare good mood as he wandered the narrow street lined with boutiques and artisan delicatessens, it reminded him more of the small coastal villages in the English county of Cornwall than a town in the USA. The old style of the place was pleasing to the eye and had a calm about it that Jensen was sure would be something he could escape to when the isolation of the glass house became too much, not that he would ever admit such a thing. He entered a tidy looking deli with a long refrigerated counter which stretched the length of the store, the display was rammed with a delicious selection of cheeses from around the world, anti-pasti dishes groaning with olives and oil smothered tomatoes and artichokes, it was Jensen’s idea of a perfect food heaven. The proprietor was knowledgeable about what his sold and Jensen was pleased to find himself in a place where he could sample the delicacies with encouragement. The conversation remained politely in the realms of the produce, right up until Jensen handed over his credit card to pay for his selection of cheese, meats, wine and other items that would serve as snacks for his grazing lifestyle.

“You bought the glass house, didn’t you?” The man said, glancing up at Jensen underneath two bushy graying eyebrows, noting how the newcomer flinched at the question.

“I did.” Jensen said, not meeting the man’s eyes.

“I like that building.”

“Join the club. You’re member number two of two.” Jensen smirked.

“Ignore them.” The man said, cleverly sensing Jensen’s tone.  
“They just don’t understand it.”

“No, they do not.”

“I imagine the views are spectacular.”

“It was this morning, when I woke. The fret here hangs around for a very long time.” Jensen smiled.

“That it does, but-” The man took a moment to take Jensen in, an astute old man if ever there was one. “-I don’t think you saw it as a hindrance.”

“Not at all.” Jensen laughed then offered the man his hand across the top of the glass counter. “Jensen Ackles.”

“Ronald Freeman.” The man said, removing a plastic hygiene glove to shake Jensen’s hand.

“I like how knowledgeable you are about what you sell.” Jensen said, nodding at the wares set out with love right under their noses. 

“I am. I have to be. I cure all the meats on site and aside from the cheese and wines which I import, mostly from Europe, everything is prepared in store.”

“Impressive.” Jensen nodded. “You’re a true artisan, I like that.”

“I don’t half ass what I love.” Ronald laughed.

“No, nor do I.”

*

Jensen was struck still as he let himself back into his house which had been warmed considerably by the early November sun, the propped up Klimt was shining like an icon as the sun beat down on the canvas, the gold leaf detail lending itself perfectly to nature. He watched it as he walked into his kitchen, his change of position seemed to make the image move, as if the lovers were shifting against one another, bringing the kiss to life. Jensen’s senses were being beautifully overworked as the day went on, even something as menial as packing away his groceries felt, quite simply, good. Not keen to let the feelings drift away, he took himself upstairs to strip naked before returning to his downstairs living space. He opened the double glass doors which faced out to the ocean, letting in a cool breeze which swept around his naked body, he felt like the luckiest fucker that had ever lived. And it had been his mind that had given him gift of his lifestyle. A reward for putting is soul out there for public consumption.

As he settled on his couch with a large glass of vintage Bordeaux, he let his music and the ocean breeze wash over him, taking in the many pieces of art scattered around his home. The wine was savored in every mouthful as his hand pressed into the base of his cock as euphoria took a hold of him. At that moment in time, Jensen wanted _everything_. He opened his mind and left it wide open to each and every sense. His cock stiffened against his hand, his thumb caught the head, capturing a droplet of precome which he sucked off with soft lips and left there to relish later. Jensen took it slow, long firm strokes down the length which he watched under his heavy eyelashes until his cock was erect and lolling against his stomach. It took two or three aggressively hard but languid tugs to make himself come with a deep groan of pure satisfaction, he licked at the precome coating his bottom lip and smothered his chest with come the very moment Jared’s scent hit his olfactory memory like an ice truck.

“What the fuck?” Jensen groaned.

That was a new one on Jensen, his day had been mostly filled with heady delights. Good food, fine wine, breathtaking views and moving art but it was that man, that unwashed creature who had truly moved him. He laughed, from the belly which made the cooling come run down and drip onto his couch. It was a reaction Jensen knew he would have to analyze.


	4. Chapter 4

One of the many reasons it had taken Jensen so long to write and complete ‘The Titanium Heart’ was because of his obsession with research. A few chapters happen over a course of three days in London, Jensen spent three months there alone to enable him to capture the essence of the place. The internet was never fully sufficient, although handy on occasion, Jensen knew that to come across as truthful he had to experience the place first hand; the trip was funded with an extra advance from his agent. During his time there, he slept with seven different men, proving that England’s capital was just as abundantly gay as his own home city. His research had bore a very different kind of fruit.

Jensen knew nothing about Jared aside from how he smelled, that he was slightly bizarre and that his wild looks had piqued an interest with the author. He hadn’t yet decided whether to drive into town to ask questions about him, so instead he spent the next morning after their first encounter, making up quite a lot of bullshit about the man simply to stretch his writing fingers. It was poor in quality and as much as Jensen knew his imagination was more than sufficient to weave a tale around the man, his instinct to research was just too much of a powerful force for him to ignore. And frankly, he _had_ to find himself something to do. Jensen had barely written plus it had been four week since last he had a sexual encounter, even longer since he had fucked. The miles away potential lay on Grindr was looking more and more tempting by the moment. To town he returned. 

*

Ronald’s delicatessens was his first stop since he had hit it off with the man and Jensen felt that perhaps if he knew Jared, he was likely to get much more informed and less gossipy information about the young man, unlike the drugstore crowd who would no doubt have nothing but bad and misinformed ideas about him. Jensen knew and was in no doubt about it, that there was more to Jared than a quiet, slightly odd and dirty person. The deli owner was more than pleased to see Jensen again so soon after his recent visit, surprised was more like it.

“You must have one hell of an appetite.” Ronald laughed. 

“I do but even I couldn’t have indulged in such fine foods in so little time. I did open the Bordeaux, which was perfection. As was the brie and bread I had for my supper.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I just wanted to pass on my appreciation.” Jensen said, only partly lying, keen to move the conversation onto the town, its people and hopefully the curious creature who had piqued Jensen’s mind and body.

“It’s always good to hear such generous feedback but of course, repeat custom is the goal.”

“I will be a regular, I’m sure.” Jensen smiled and then the breakthrough came he had been waiting for.

“Are you finding Everfall to your liking?”

“I am, I enjoy the quiet tranquility of the place, it’s charming.”

“And the people?”

“To be honest, I’ve been, I suppose you could call it hibernating for the past month. I’m not what you would call a natural people person but I met a few in the various stores I visited. The ladies in the drugstore are an interesting crowd.” Jensen smirked as Ronald shot him a knowing look. “And of course Jared came in while I was there.” He said, using a tone of familiarity in the comment.

“Ah yes, Jared.” It was all the old man offered as their casual conversation was abruptly shelved by the arrival of a customer. Jensen took a step back, choosing to hang around and peruse the pickles and chutneys. He had been so close to getting a little something that would shed light on the man. And praise whoever for Ronald who picked them up where they had left off as his customer exited the deli. “He lives with his mother a few miles just out of town.”

“He lives with his Mother?” Jensen frowned, as much as Jared had been difficult to age, he was sure he was a grown man. “How old is he?”

“He’s about your age, thirty-five.”

“I’m thirty-nine.” Jensen laughed lightly. “Does he work?”

“He fishes, that’s all I know. He won’t talk to you, y’know. You could try but he won’t utter a word to you, so I’d better give trying to make friends with him a miss.”

“Is that why-?” Jensen gestured at his neck and chest, a reference to Jared’s curious self-made signage.

“Yes, it’s how he communicates. At least, when he’s forced to. One says ‘No’, the other says ‘Thank you’ which I believe covers ‘Yes’ also.”

“I see.” Jensen nodded, allowing himself to drift off as he stared through the window of the delicatessens. The fog was closing in again.

“If you’re that keen to try, he’ll be in the book store at one. But he keeps himself to himself.”

“You have a bookstore here?” Jensen was truly surprised believing that he had exhausted the town’s few store in one morning the day before. 

“We do, it’s just past the drugstore. Follow the alleyway and you’ll find it there. It’s a nice place The Courtyard, like a mini Italian piazza.”

“That sounds charming.” Jensen smiled warmly because even if he was there for more cunning purposes, he genuinely liked Ronald. He checked his watch as he headed for the door but paused before he stepped outside.

“How do you know so specifically that Jared will be there?”

“It’s his routine. Drugstore once a month for his Mother’s medications, the bookstore every Friday and here every Saturday.”

“At the time precise time?”

“Hm.” Ronald nodded. “Like clockwork.”

“Well, thank you, for the chat and I’ll see you again for more of your delicious cheeses.” 

“Bye for now, son.”

“See you.”

*

‘Italian piazza’ was a stretch of the imagination Jensen thought as he found himself in a little courtyard of wet cobble-stones and small local businesses, although it was delightfully charming. Jensen noted the small offices for the realtor who had sold him his house and next door there was a mens clothes store which seemed to sell nothing but jaunty sailing gear. There was a vintage boutique for ladies clothing, a patisserie, a coffee shop with steamed up windows and a smattering of tables and chairs outside, hopeful in seducing customers to sit outside to sip espresso in the fog. And then there was the bookstore, which appeared to take up two units. ‘ _We sell new and used books – come say hello!_ read the friendly door sign which currently had a display of Thanksgiving cookery and craft publications in the window. Since Jensen had a little time on his hands and wasn’t the least bit interested in browsing nautical themed sweaters and beaded purses, he walked into ‘The Tiller’s Hitch’ café which Jensen knew to be a kind of knot and once inside was assaulted with more seafaring frippery. He did however fall head over heels in love with an old copper coffee machine that sat behind the counter humming and hissing, pumping out huge puffs of steam and the aroma of what smelled like very good quality coffee.

“Afternoon. What can I get you?” A small dark-haired man in a deep blue apron threw a rag over his shoulder as if Jensen had just walked into a saloon bar and offered him a welcoming smile.

“Just a cortado, your house blend if you have one.” Jensen smiled.

“We do.” The man nodded. “One Tiller’s cortado.” He said, throwing the instruction over his shoulder. “On vacation?” 

“No, I live here.” 

“Oh.” The little man’s brow knotted together in a quizzical manner. Everyone knew everyone in this small town and then the penny dropped. “Oh, you bought the glass house.”

“I did.” Jensen said tightly and felt the small coffee shop drop into a deafening silence. “I bought the glass house, a house that I love.” He added with the touch of a warning tone in his voice which was enough for the ambient chatter to resume.

“I like it. I went up there to meet the architect when it was being built. There was some resistance from the local residents committee so I went to see for myself. I managed to calm folks down.”

“Good for you.”

“No one can see it unless they encroach on your land.”

“No.” Jensen was becoming increasingly tired having to discuss his living arrangements with every person he met, however the group of gossiping middle-aged ladies huddled together giggling amongst themselves seemed to have another subject on their minds. They were perving on Jensen. Hard. The author was used to attention, male and female, so used the situation to his advantage by shifting the subject away from the house by flashing the ladies a dashing smile. He couldn’t blame them, he felt good and knew that he looked good too in his usual smart/casual attire of skinny jeans and linen suit jacket. He loved himself, and why shouldn’t he, no one else did. And aged aunt had once remarked that ‘ _If that man was made of chocolate, he’d eat himself_ ’. She hadn’t been wrong, Jensen would gobble down every last morsel. 

Jensen thanked the man, took his coffee and sat himself at one of the tables outside. There was a touch of chill in the air as the fog continued its descent, every so often sweeping into the courtyard then back out, undecided where to settle. Since the only offer of entertainment were a handful of newspapers and magazines inside the coffee shop, Jensen did what all people in the 21st century do when wanting to appear occupied in public; he went on his phone. Newspapers had left a recent bitter taste in Jensen’s mouth, as much as they were hugely instrumental and daresay a God-send when his book was first published, their behavior after the fact was unsavoury. While Jensen had been more than happy to discuss his novel; his approach to the story and how he spent three months in London to research the book, he was adverse to discussing his private life. He had ‘admitted’ (not his word) that he was gay, not that he needed to do such a thing. Admittance felt like he was laying down a scandalous fact about himself, when in simple terms he merely enjoyed cock. In any case, the constant harassment to discuss his personal life took its toll after the ‘orgy debacle’ and Jensen refused to speak to another journalist. Until perhaps he needed them again if the miracle of a second novel were to plop on their desks.

A smart phone can offer a person endless delights of information, entertainment and penis, even a person like Jensen whose past times are carefully put together and selective, even those involving cock. He perused Grindr, disappointed to discover that the only man within a fifty mile radius Jensen was willing to dally with had vanished from the app. If things continued in that manner, he was going to have to call upon Vanessa and her incredible breasts. Jensen shut his phone off, ignoring all the missed calls, emails and text messages that had been piling up for several weeks. He had never been great at keeping in contact with anyone and yet wondered often why he was lonely. 

Jared’s bicycle clattered along the cobble-stones, snapping Jensen out from his brief slump of dick disappointment. The man was dressed exactly as he had been the day before and no doubt smelled the same too, although Jensen wasn’t close enough to tell. As much the violent assault on his nose had alarmed him up close and personal, the memory of it had a different effect. It was visceral and there was something savage about the man who had wheedled his way into the baser part of Jensen’s brain. Jensen was famously picky about his men, desiring well-groomed, metro-sexual intellectuals. Jared seemed to be none of those things. He was abundantly lacking in anything Jensen usually craved. A moment of introspection occupied Jensen’s mind while the wild creature of the coast dismounted his bicycle and leaned it against the window of the bookstore. It wasn’t that Jared was the only man in town, nor was it Jensen’s neglected libido that was dictating his erotic leanings toward the man. It was, his difference that intrigued Jensen. The fact that the author perhaps needed to change his exhaustive list of needs and wants in a man. He was suddenly tired of the cologne, the expensive boxer briefs and bleached assholes. More than that, Jared had invited himself into Jensen’s brain without having the decency to ask for permission, Jensen liked the absurdity of it. He didn’t once address the idea that Jared was most likely not gay.

Jared had to duck as he stepped into the bookstore, another little quirk that Jensen found appealing. Imagine being that large that doorways were a hindrance. He dallied a while and finished his coffee which had smelled better than it tasted. Jensen pondered if Jared tasted better than he smelled. The bookstore was as Jensen expected, floor to ceiling book shelves all organized in genre and thankfully alphabetically too. He was quick to note that the store was lacking a LGBTQ+ section and feared that his own book, if indeed the store held a copy or two would be rammed in beside the mainstream romance novels. ‘The Titanium Heart’ _wasn’t_ a romance novel, although Jensen hated that word. It was so feeble. His novel in Jensen’s own words was ‘ _a fuck-fest with soul_ ’. 

He could smell Jared but couldn’t see him, the bookstore was a labyrinth of nooks and crannies, narrow aisles where the ceiling high books seemed to curve and rest precariously as the customer browsed. A quick flash of a daydream sent Jensen to the shore by his glass house, a clinch, overpowered by the strength of Jared’s body and the weight pressing Jensen into the ground. A beep from the cash register brought him back to the bookstore as he listened carefully to a one sided conversation. Jared. Jensen grabbed the first book he could get his hands on, weaving back through the teetering shelves and once again found himself stood next to Jared and his potent smell by the counter. He cocked his head at the book being neatly wrapped in old fashioned brown wrapping paper and string. The Iliad and the Odyssey by Homer vanished behind the paper and was handed to Jared who had clearly paid using his coin dispenser and stood patiently while the cashier counted out an endless pile of quarters. Ancient Greek literature, it was almost laughable at first. Was it likely that this odd creature spent his lonely nights reading something so-. Jensen thought for a moment.

“Complex.” Jensen said out loud. Jared went stiff, the author saw it and then went numb with intrigue as the grubby lover of epic Greek poetry curled his long hair behind one ear. His face was surprisingly tan from the sun, a soft golden sheen across his nose and cheeks. Under one eye sat a neat, perfectly circular dark beauty mark and his thick, heavy beard sat against the high neck of his moth-eaten knitted sweater. It was an incredibly diverting sight. 

Jared held up the sign around his neck which read ‘Thank you’. Jensen laughed but there was no teasing in his tone, if he wasn’t mistaken it felt a little like joy.

“You’re welcome.” Jensen grinned and saw a flicker of amusement twinkle in Jared’s startling prismatic eyes, the author was beguiled in an instant. Jared nodded as the cashier swept the last quarter from the counter and then again at Jensen before leaving the bookstore in a sweeping duck. “He’s marvelous.” Jensen muttered with a grin that would just not stop, still watching the man fumble about with his bicycle through the store window. “Does he actually read what he buys?” He said idly as Jared cross the courtyard and settled his bicycle outside the patisserie.

“I believe so.” The cashier smiled. “People don’t get Jared, they tolerate him but there’s probably more to him than meets the eye.”

“I’d hoped as much.”

“Excuse me, I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward but you’re Jensen Ackles, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Jensen drew his eyes away from Jared who had folded himself into another impossibly tiny doorway.

“I’ve sold a few copies of ‘The Titanium Heart’.”

“Quite right too.” Jensen grinned. 

“Would you be kind enough to sign me a copy? We have a few in stock.”

That request pissed Jensen off instantly, he had never been a fan of signing his novel. PR tours became norm for him during the books initial release and sitting behind a desk in endless bookstores around the world had been the least enjoyable aspect of his success. He purposely signed his name in every book as unintelligibly as he could manage, on occasion not even looking down as he scrawled over the title page. A signed first edition sold on eBay for thousands, thousands Jensen would never get to see. However, in this case he was in the best mood he had been in for a long time. So he obliged.

“Of course.” Jensen smiled politely as the cashier dashed off to retrieve a copy of the book from, as he had predicted, the romance section of the store. Jared was still inside the patisserie which pleased Jensen because he was in no way finished with the beautiful creature for the day. And he could see it now, Jared’s raw beauty that had got under Jensen’s skin in degrees that would mean some quiet time at home later to make sense of it all.

“There, it’s a hardback copy. I don’t like those soft covers with the movie art on them.”

“No, neither do I.” Jensen said, clicking a pen and opening the book to the title page. “What’s your name?”

“Maggie.” The cashier said not quick enough to stop Jensen from dedicating his signature to her. 

“To Maggie, best wishes, Jensen Ackles.” 

“Oh, thanks.” Maggie said flatly as Jensen made the book unsaleable to anyone but all the other ‘Maggie’s’ in the world and in turn depreciated his signature by way of the dedication. A sly move on Jensen’s part. “I can’t sell that now.” She huffed, turning the open book around.

“Well, how much is it?” Jensen flicked the open page and read the small price marked in the corner of the sleeve. “I’ll buy it for you, my treat.”

“I already own a copy.”

“Well, now you have two.” Jensen smiled, laying a crisp twenty dollar bill onto the book. “Now-” He said, setting the book he had grabbed from the shelf on the counter which he had no intention of buying. “-I have to dash. It was nice meeting you.”

“And you, Mr. Ackles.” Maggie gave Jensen a genuine smile. He was being charming and twinkly, she couldn’t really do anything else.

By the time Jensen had left the store, Jared and his ladies bicycle had gone.

*

The thrillingly hazardous drive back home in the fog was quite the adventure which only added to Jensen’s good mood. The author questioned everything about himself, deep analyzing of each mood and feeling. Every sensation was dissected and pulled apart in his habitual process of understanding himself. Thoughts about Jared once he had returned home came up with very little. The laws of attraction were always up for interpretation Jensen believed. We all had different wants and needs, Jensen’s being what he thought was the epitome of man; exceptionally groomed, fit in body and mind with golden ratio levels of beauty. His life was well-ordered through his choices and was rarely susceptible to spontaneity. Jared had thrown him, made him wonder and fantasize in ways he had never experienced. It was in some ways a disruption to his lifestyle, suddenly not knowing what he wanted and what he needed. Jensen rarely spoke about negatives that came into his life, problems, if one could call them that were fucked away or dulled by questionable narcotics. He needed _something_. 

Jensen was laid out naked on his couch, laying comfortably on his side with his laptop balancing on the edge. He hated computers, although that tended to be more prevalent when they wouldn’t do what he wanted them to do, like now, calling Vanessa on Skype. After several failed attempts, he got through. It warmed him to see a friendly face, since it had been only Jared’s face of late that he had been pleased to see.

“Hello, stranger.” Jensen grinned, Vanessa had that effect on him.

“Hello yourself, laying there on your couch like an overlord.” Vanessa was all tumbling red hair and face. So much face. Jensen would have married her years ago if it hadn’t been for his favoring cock.

“I’m relaxing, darling.”

“So I see. Written much?”

“Ugh, not a word. Well, a little here and there. It’s a touch slow in the sticks, Van.”

“I did warn you.”

“Come up and see me.”

“Jen, I can’t. I’ve been meaning to call. I’ve met a man.”

“Oh? Does that mean our regression sessions back to puberty are over?”

“I’m afraid it does, darling. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m happy for you. He’s not one of those dreadful professors you always harp on about is he?” Jensen teased.

“No, you know I don’t dabble at work. His name is Sean and he's, well he’s a journalist.”

“Traitor.” Jensen laughed. “Does he treat you like the Queen of Sheba.”

“He does.” Vanessa smiled, flicking her hair over one shoulder. “He’s a very good man.”

“Then I’m thrilled for you, my darling.”

“Since when are you ever ‘thrilled’, do you even know the meaning of the word, Jen?” Vanessa smirked around the rim of a glass of white wine.

“Ha ha. I hope he’s taking care of my tits.” Jensen lifted his head as if to try and view his friends ample chest.

“Of course.”

“Show me, just one more time, for my internal keepsake box.”

“I don’t know what you find so fascinating about them.” Vanessa laughed, unbuttoning her smart shirt but playfully poking her tongue out at Jensen. “You should find someone else to play with, I know some girls from the ‘other career’.”

“No. It wouldn’t be the same. As far as I’m concerned you were my high school sweetheart.” Jensen smirked on a groan as Vanessa heaved her breasts out of her bra. “Always phenomenal.” He muttered feeling a slight stirring in his dick, the effect had always been better within their playful fantasy. “Bye, bye my beauties.” Jensen laughed as his favorite pair of tits were tucked away, never to be seen again. At least not by him.

“So, have you met anyone?”

“I assume by your vague question, you mean men. And no. I have not.” Jensen was disinclined to mention Jared, even to an old friend like Vanessa. He hadn’t begun to understand his attraction toward the man, so was unlikely to have the ability to explain him to her.

“Slim pickings in the boonies?”

“Slim? Non-existent pickings is more accurate, darling.” 

“Oh shame. You must be crawling the walls to get laid.”

“A little.”

“Right.” Vanessa smirked at her friend, she knew him too well.

“Okay, I admit. It’s dire. I did have a rather interesting orgasm the other day whilst listening to Puccini.”

“Puccini is flimsy.”

“Puccini works, on occasion. Don’t be a snob, Van.”

“Why don’t you take a trip up to Augusta?”

“I might, I’ve been toying with the idea. I was looking at flesh lights online this morning.”

“Oh dear, things are worse than I thought.” Vanessa teased, knowing her friends dislike for sex toys. ‘ _It’s all about the body for me, Van. No frills, no toys, just the body_ ’.

“As I said, dire.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jensen shoved his overnight bag onto the back seat of his jeep having locked up his home and set the security alarms after deciding to take a drive up to the state capital of Augusta in search of a man. He wasn’t hopping from one leg to other with excitement, he never did that any way, but he wasn’t even vaguely looking forward to it. Driving long distances hadn’t ever been a favorite past time and it was likely to be a huge waste of time and money if his plans fell flat but he needed to get out of the house and the town, even if it was only for a weekend. The November fogs were constantly lifting and shifting but had cleared enough to give Jensen more visibility. The fall leaves lined the main road out of Everfall which was slick with damp, making the asphalt look pitch black and as if covered with a thin layer of ice. It was, Jensen thought, beautiful country even with winter beckoning. The dead season where nature slipped into a stasis of nothingness. He liked how the earth could be so brash to close up for a few months out of the year and often wished that he could ‘switch off’ in a similar vein. 

As he drove toward town, which he had to pass to get himself on to the highway to Augusta, Jensen saw him. Jared. Standing by the side of the road like one of those living statues one used to see in Central Park. His bicycle was propped up against his legs and on closer inspection as he drover nearer, Jensen noticed that the front wheel had buckled. City Jensen would have driven straight past, even if he had known the person in crisis but country Jensen slowly pulled his jeep over to the side of the road and parked up by the still motionless Jared. He leaned out of his window and smiled at Maine’s very own version of Encino Man.

“Had an accident?” Jensen said in a friendly manner. He knew Jared to be painfully shy and not good around people.

Jared lifted the sign around his neck which read ‘Thank you’ which Jensen knew could mean ‘Yes’ too.

“Can I help?” The author jumped out of his jeep, cautiously approaching Jared who stiffened as Jensen came nearer. “Oh dear, how did that happen?” Jensen knew nothing about bicycles, cars or anything even the slightest bit mechanical but it was clear that Jared’s bicycle was not fit for a quick roadside repair. In fact it only looked fit for the dumpster.

Jared suddenly let the bicycle fall to the ground which kicked up muddy water and leaves from the ground and all over the front of Jensen’s very expensive boots and jeans. To his surprise, although vaguely pissed off, Jensen barely batted an eyelid, only stepping back out of instinct. Jared’s eyes flew wide open with instant apology, his lack of words seemed to make the man more physically expressive. 

“It’s okay, accidents happen. Let me help you, please.” 

Jared held a finger up and dipped his hand into one of the many pockets of his coat. He pulled out a small wad of Post-It notes and a pen, one of those small poor quality blue ink pens that are handed out for free in banks. Jared flicked the first page over and wrote, before flashing the note at Jensen.

“You hit a rock?” Jensen asked and Jared nodded then again wrote on his pad. “I have to get home. Late.” The author read and was impressed with Jared’s cursive handwriting and told him so. “You have beautiful handwriting.” He smiled. Jared lifted his ‘Thank you’ sign.

‘ _I don’t know how to get home in time_.’ Jared wrote.

“Well, I can drive you home. I have room in my jeep for your bicycle, it’s no problem.” Jensen said, surprised again by his charity. 

‘ _My mother_.’ Jared scribbled the two words down, his handwriting a scrawl; worry and panic in text.

“What about your mother?” Jensen asked, frowning quite deeply as Jared continued to write. Patience was Jensen’s second surprise of the day. As Jared scratched away on the paper, Jensen took a moment to look at him. It was the closest they had been, the closest Jensen could get to study the man in broad daylight. Jared was utterly exquisite, and it wasn’t even the aged case of ‘ _he’d scrub up well_ ’. Jared was as raw and as wild as a human being could be, unapologetically beautiful.

‘ _She’s sick and she worries. She’ll question me, you’re not someone she knows. I don’t know what to do_.’ Jared looked panic stricken as he held the neon pink pad up against Jensen’s face who had to pull back to focus on the words.

“You can’t stand out here alone all day, it will be dark soon. Let me take you home. Please.” Jensen had a billion and one questions floating around in his ever busy brain but he was genuinely concerned about Jared’s welfare. Third surprise of the day. “I won’t say anything, I can let you out of the jeep away from your house if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

Jared thought for a long time, glancing at Jensen’s jeep and his bicycle, mulling over the author’s offer of assistance. He lifted the ‘Thank you’ sign and nodded. 

“Great.” Jensen smiled. “In you get, I’ll lift your bicycle into the back and we’ll get you home.” He laughed to himself as he imagined the many people he had wronged or been rude to in his life if they saw what he had become. A small-town dweller who helps unfortunates with broken bicycles and getting them back home to mother. Jensen rounded the back of his jeep and climbed into the drivers seat as Jared fumbled around with his seat belt which Jensen took as a cue to lean across Jared’s body to assist who froze as the author’s body grazed his chest. “It’s okay, the clip is a touch temperamental.” Jensen laughed but all he could concentrate on was the feeling of a solid body under several layers of thick clothing. Jared’s scent wasn’t as potent as it usually was, instead of days worth of body odor, it was akin to a strenuous gym session but no less intense as it had been when Jensen had first encountered him. There was _so much_ of Jared, so much body and hair. Everything about him was a lot, Jensen could only conjure up simplistic terms at that point in time, eloquence seemed to evade him when in Jared’s company. Jensen’s cock twitched as he leaned back to fasten his own seat belt and start up the engine. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jared lift up his ‘Thank you’ sign.

“You are very welcome.” Jensen chuckled, pulling out into the stretch of shiny black asphalt. “You’re going to have to tell me where to go.” Near silence as Jared scribbled away on his pad.

‘ _Straight ahead, turn left at sign that says ‘Corf Bay’. House is there_.’

“You are quite a long way from home.” Jensen said, tearing his eyes away from the note as he drove. “Do you have a phone so you can call you mother?”

‘ _Not allowed, don’t need one_.’ Jared wrote, although Jensen took a little time to read the reply since he was keen to not come off the road but noticed that Jared a crossed out the words ‘not allowed’ as if an afterthought had prompted him to do so.

“I see. I’m sure that if you tell her you had a mishap on your bicycle, she’ll understand.” Jensen glanced at his wild rescuee who shook his head.

Jensen didn’t quite know how to respond to someone who lived a life under the thumb of what felt like a controlling and somewhat uncaring parent. Particularly as he seemed increasingly more capable than Jensen had first thought. Jared wasn’t a vulnerable child either. Whether Jared’s mother was truly sick or not, the hold she appeared to have over son was unfathomable in Jensen’s mind. It was unhealthy, cruel and bizarre. It was though, at that moment Jensen decided to do something about it. The idea was in too early stages of what the ‘do something’ could be but it was there in his head which is where he kept it to work on later when he was alone at home, because the trip to Augusta to find a man had found itself shelved for the foreseeable future.

*

Communication for the entire drive to Jared’s mysterious coastal home was impossible, the fact was a huge disappointment to Jensen who could easily have taken advantage of their time together to get to know Jared more. He did however take a small risk whereby he asked a question that he saw as the most pressing to be answered.

“Can you talk?” Jensen said, casually leaning forward to crank the heating up since the weather had taken a turn for the worst. He snapped his head away from the road as Jared tapped his ‘Thank you’ sign and nodded. “Then why don’t you?”

Silence, at least Jared’s version of silence which meant his Post-It notes and pen sat idly in his lap while his hands were wrung together, a sign that Jensen had moved into uncomfortable terrain. 

“I see. Another story for another day?”

‘ _Thank you_ ’ sign.

“Okay.” Jensen smiled. “I understand.” It was the usual and polite thing for people to say that when in situations they clearly did not understand. Jensen had become a person. 

The road shifted closer to the coast as dusk swept in from the North Atlantic, Jensen hadn’t been in Jared’s part of the county which was much quieter and considerably more isolated than Jensen’s neck of the woods. The silent man had much farther to travel into town and with only a bicycle for transport it explained why, when Jensen had leaned across Jared to fasten his seat belt, he felt nothing but muscle underneath his clothes. An arm was thrown in front of Jensen’s view, bringing him back to reality as Jared gestured at a large gray stone cottage, prettily situated on the coastline and low down, away from the road and perhaps prying eyes. The chimney was huffing out silvery swirls of smoke and the windows glowed with flickering amber light. If Jensen couldn’t like this man any more.

“What a perfect situation you have.” Jensen said while Jared gestured for the author that he was quite as close as needed to be. “Okay. It’s alright, I’ll stop.” As Jensen shut off the engine, it plunged the pair into a deathly silence until Jared lifted his ‘Thank you’ sign.

“You’re welcome. Can I help you?” 

Jared shook his head, freeing himself with haste from his seat belt.

“Can I see you again?” Jensen took another chance.  
Jared was halfway out of the door, living statue still until he curled back into the warmth of the jeep. He took out his Post-Its and pen.

‘ _Why?_ ’ 

“I like you.” 

Jared tapped at the ‘why’ with the nib of his pen.

“Why?” Jensen chuckled lightly, and with just a modicum of rare nerves. “Why does anyone like anyone? I just do. I know you read, I do too. I thought it would be nice to talk about books, over a coffee perhaps.”

More frantic scratching on the notebook and nervous glances at the cozy cottage.

_'Next week, bookstore. 1pm'._

“Alright.” Jensen grinned and then again with astonishment as Jared grinned back at him, shoving his ‘voice’ back into his pocket and leaving the jeep without another word. “What a beauty.” Jensen laughed softly and sat watching, body twisted awkwardly as Jared retrieved his bicycle from the back of his jeep and then jogged with it on his shoulder to a flight of stone steps which lead down to the cottage. Jensen watched him as he disappeared from view and then as he reappeared from the bottom of the steps, hurrying toward the cottage. Jared left his bicycle outside then hovered by the door way before turning and waving up at Jensen.

*

Jensen was not in the same mood he had been in when he’d left Jared by the time he returned home. In fact he felt morose. His house was plunged into a fog and darkness which felt cold and unlived in as he disabled the alarm. Jensen thought that time alone in his car surrounded by the rugged natural beauty of the Maine coastline would be enough to help him work his way around the many feelings he had about Jared. Dozens of unanswered questions seemed to fuse themselves together, unwilling to allow Jensen to pull them apart as if encouraging his mind to just accept the fate of feelings. There was nothing else Jensen could do, he had given himself a mild headache which he remedied with a handful of painkillers and half a glass of Bordeaux and then reverted back to who he was comfortable with being by trawling his phone for an old ‘friend’. 

Ellie (short for Elliot) was an ‘occasional’ who Jensen kept tucked away in his personal ‘wank bank’, a phrase Jensen picked up during his three months in London and kept because it was puerile and base. Ellie was a baby bear who earned his living performing for the lonely and pervy via the wonders of the internet. He was a cam boy, hardly a boy at the age of thirty but so went the common term. Jensen liked Ellie because he was big, bearded and open minded, a winning combination in the author’s opinion. It had been a while since he had called upon the trainee bear to entertain him and the fact that it was a late weekend night, a risk. But Jensen loved those on occasion and felt his mood shift into something less maudlin as he dropped Ellie a text. 

**Jensen:** Got an opening for me tonight, darling?

The reply took a while to come through which gave Jensen the chance to arrange other entertainment if his cam date went awry, setting himself a plate of nibbles from the deli and loading his DVD player with some good quality porn.

**Ellie:** I always have an opening for you. I have Casey with me tonight, pay for a pair? 

**Jensen:** Absolutely.

Jensen had liked Casey too, he wasn’t his usual type but he was a filthy little bitch.

**Ellie:** Want anything special, Jensen?

**Jensen:** Lots of kissing and some close up oral would be perfect

**Ellie:** Call in 15?

**Jensen:** Great, I’ll send payment over now

Jensen declined the invitation to use the two-way cam, he wasn’t in the mood to be anyone’s entertainment but did agree to the mic being switched on, he had always liked the thought of Ellie hearing him orgasm, a reward alongside the monetary benefits. The two men were naked and sat facing one another, legs wrapped around one anothers bodies as the cam switched on. 

“Good evening.” Jensen said deeply which made Ellie noticeably shiver, the author laughed and popped a chunk of ciabatta dipped in balsamic dressing into his mouth as the ‘pay for a pair’ sunk into a slow but deep kiss. “Use your tongues.” He muttered because he knew that his voice feeding dirty instructions during the course of the session was going to send Ellie crazy. Jensen and his baby bear had slept together once, Ellie had taken one look at Jensen on the two-way cam while he was digging around inside his ass hole for the author’s viewing pleasure and instantly broke rule one of camming; never agree to meet the clients. Three days later, Ellie broke rule two; never sleep with the clients. From that day forward, Ellie claimed and named Jensen as the ‘ _fuck of my life_ ’. Jensen agreed that it had been ‘fun’ but had enjoyed having his ego stroked more than anything. 

“More tongue.” Jensen said from the luxury of his couch, spread out naked as he habitually was. “Nice and wet for me, boys.” His ‘boys’ obliged, pressing their outstretched tongues together as strings of spit hung between their mouths. “Good, keep it up.”  
Jensen’s supper was pushed aside in favor of more carnal treats, although not quite ready to pleasure himself, he did drag the palm of his hand down the length of his swelling cock, just to feel the initial rush of blood to his favorite organ. The boys were doing just fine. When Jensen decided that the obscene kissing had become too much of a good thing, he barked out a stream of orders. ‘ _Show me your ass holes_ ’, _Eat one another out for me, my darlings_ ’ and ‘ _Kiss again, boys_ ’ all the while Jensen fiddled with his dick and sucked precome from his fingers. His prize of a close-up blow job was handed to him precisely when he asked for it as Ellie sat himself on the edge of the bed as per instructions, spread his muscular thighs and pushed his cock into Casey’s willing mouth who was on his knees, positioned perfectly for Jensen’s view.

“Grab his hair, darling. I don’t want that cock to slip out from his dirty mouth for even a second.” Jensen was groaning, stroking his own petulant penis which hadn’t realized its soul job was to stay hard, in time with Casey’s bobbing head. Jensen focused on the wet sounds and the over the top moans and hisses coming from Ellie’s mouth. “Suck it harder, fuck. Come over his face, Ellie darling. When you’re ready, come over his face.” Jensen was struggling but getting there slowly as Ellie grabbed a handful of Casey’s hair and came in a parade of milky streamers over his face. The author took the image in and managed a soft grunt as he came like a dollar store firework being let off in the rain. Jensen groaned and slapped his free hand over the lid of his laptop which he snapped shut, he moodily elbowed his phone from the couch onto the floor because he _knew_ that Ellie was likely to send him a ‘ _Where did you go, baby?_ text. Ugh, baby. Jensen threw his left hand over his face, the right still wrapped around his flaccid cock as his come slowly cooled on his stomach. Wretched, he felt wretched.

_A review of best-selling author, Jensen Ackles’ latest release – The Last Orgasm I Had – A Novel._

_I could see what Mr. Ackles was hoping to achieve by seeking out live pornography to quell the ever increasing lack of sexual contact but in this, he failed. In his attempts to disregard his feelings for Jared, he has only highlighted that his life is lacking something more meaningful than cracking open his ‘wank bank’ or asking a female friend to play with her, if I may say so, spectacular tits. By ignoring his emotions, which seem to be quite strong and indeed uncharted waters for the young(ish) writer, his needs are therefore left unsatisfied, the disappointment of which only adds to his current woes. I feel that Mr. Ackles may need to grow a pair of balls and accept that sex is not the answer to his problems. His lackluster performance this evening, just goes to show that he needs to address emotions that far outweigh his sexual desires. Even his reluctant penis was unwilling to play his insular mind games and thus declined to partake in his sexual charade. As orgasms go, it was unexciting and feeble. And for that reason, I’m going to give him 1/5 stars._

*

Jensen had no idea, not one clue was happening to his mind and abnormally, his heart. He believed Jared to be nothing more than a lapse of judgment when he was away from him, the strange desire he had for him was thought of as nothing more than the fact that Jared seemed to be the only eligible man in town, if not the entire county. But worse still he also overlooked how he felt when he was in his company. The happiness, the feeling of the beginning of a new friendship and utter disbelief he feels when he’s looking at him. Jensen only notices the things everyone else sees when Jared isn’t around, the unkempt beard, the smell, the mutism and the odd relationship with his mother and forgets that he has looked into Jared’s soul and seen something special. Something unique and raw.


	6. Chapter 6

Jensen put his pitiful two hundred buck orgasm down to many reasons apart from the one that was actually behind it. He had been tired from the long drive home, masturbating had never been his thing and he’d had a slight headache were just three of the very wrong conclusions he had come up with. Jared was there, of course, in the back of his mind, nestled nicely behind what Jensen believed to be perfectly decent reasoning. He made no attempt in trying to relieve himself as the week which held Thanksgiving passed in a slow, plodding manner full of half-assed note writing, drinking too much wine and watching porn with the volume down. During that week, Jensen did have to wonder why he had moved out into the sticks and left everyone he knew behind and was pretty sure that if he had hung around for a few more weeks, his dissatisfaction with city life would have passed, but no. As knee-jerk reactions went, this one was horrendous. Jensen’s pretentious desire to become the tortured writer living in isolation had backfired spectacularly.

His meeting with Jared came around fast, the day before, Jensen had spent Thanksgiving alone, forgoing turkey in favor of what he had left in the fridge from his last trip to Ronald’s delicatessens. Vanessa had invited him to celebrate the holiday with her but by asking Jensen the day before the fact was reason enough for him to decline. ‘ _It’s late notice, darling. We’ll get together for Christmas?_ ’.

Was Jensen’s coffee date with Jared, a date? He didn’t know as he made the choice to dress for the weather rather than the occasion, he knew very well that Jared would be in the same get-up. The chunky forest green sweater and long military style coat. Jensen smiled to himself as he dressed, thinking about how he wouldn’t like to see Jared in anything else but that and slowly, Jared’s very existence started once again to work its magic on Jensen’s perpetually temperamental mood. Even the thought of the man was enough to put a spring in the step of such an infamously stubborn ass hole like Jensen. The author wrapped himself up in several layers, the last being his own version of a chunky knit sweater in soft cream which made his slight tan complexion and boyish freckles pop out alongside his pretty green eyes. And it was ridiculous really because the sheer likelihood of Jared being gay was slim but still not slim enough to stop Jensen from peacocking and preening in front of his mirrored closet. A friend would do, a lover would be a surprise.

Since Jared seemed to be a stickler for timekeeping, Jensen made his best effort to arrive at the courtyard bookstore at 1pm, arriving only a minute late which didn’t seem to bother Jared one bit. His bicycle was propped up against the shop window with a shiny new wheel.

“Hello.” Jensen smiled a smile that came so naturally he hadn’t noticed its ease.

Jared nodded before dipping his hand into his left pocket and taking out a sheet of letter paper folded in four and handed it to Jensen, nodding again as he did so. Jensen took it, unfolding it with curiosity then even more so as the paper revealed itself to be two sheets smothered in Jared’s beautiful cursive handwriting in black ink. 

“Do you want me to read this now?”

Jared nodded.

“Um, perhaps we should sit inside Tillers with a coffee, it’s quite cold.”

Jared shook his head.

“Right.” Jensen huffed a weak chuckle through his nostrils before offering a second suggestion. “Coffee in my car?”

Jared nodded and added a smile to his affirmative. 

“Okay, you wait here.” Jensen said, refolding the paper and pushing it into the inside pocket of his navy blue pea coat. “I’ll get us some coffee. What would you like?” 

Jared had anticipated the question and was scribbling on his Post-Its before Jensen had finished asking the question. Jensen smiled as he read Jared’s request out loud.

“’A mocha with extra chocolate, please’. My pleasure.” Jensen chuckled, holding a finger up as he dashed across the slippery cobbled courtyard. “I’ll be right back.” He called out, throwing the words over his shoulder. Jensen was happy again, a word he had never really liked. A word that conjured up images of party balloons, sickly rainbow colored cake frosting and everything that was ghastly about forced mainstream celebration. A word that perhaps Jensen had never fully understood because up until just recently he had never once, in his almost forty years admitted nor felt in any way conceivable, happy. And yet, here he was skipping across cobblestones like Tigger on crack. Jared was like a bong hit and then some and Jensen was as high as a kite. 

The author ordered two coffees to go, Jared’s mocha with extra chocolate and oddly for himself, he forwent his usual pretentious cortado replacing it with a latte, adding to it an extra shot of espresso and a pump of hazelnut syrup. 

“Would you like cream on the latte, sir?”

“Yes, I would.” Jensen laughed, quite loudly. “What the fuck is happening to me?” He muttered into the soft, knitted collar of his sweater. The order seemed to take forever which was cutting into precious time, Jared was likely to be on a tight schedule and keen to keep his mother happy. Unless his mother was nothing more than a bundle of bones propped up in an armchair in the living room, bedecked in her Sunday best a la Norma Bates. That absurd notion filled the wait time and Jensen was soon walking back to Jared with their coffees.

‘Thank you’ sign. 

“That’s okay, are you going to leave your bicycle?”

Jared shook his head.

“You can put it in the back of my jeep, if you like.” 

Jared nodded.

The pair did garner a few strange looks as they walked side by side, Jensen with two coffees and Jared with his clattering bicycle; GQ Magazine’s best dressed man of the year and Grizzly Adams. Jensen couldn’t have given a bigger shit. Once they had settled inside Jensen’s jeep and the coffee cups were sitting in the holders between the two front seats Jared’s body odor filled the small space quite violently. It wasn’t dirt, it wasn’t days worth of filth, just copious amounts of man-sweat. Jensen took no steps to open a window, instead he let the scent wash over him and noted that the effect of it was still as visceral and hugely sexual. Jensen set aside his emotions but embraced his twitching dick then asked Jared’s permission to read his letter. Jared nodded.

“Drink your coffee while I read.”

‘ _Firstly, I wanted to thank you for talking to me. Folks don’t tend to around here, at least not any more. And I’m okay with that because I don’t feel it’s anyone’s business about how I live my life but oddly, I feel like I can talk to you. Ha ha, talk. I wanted to explain to you, just that. Why I won’t talk? A letter like this won’t touch the surface of my tale of woe and I know we don’t have much time together. I don’t really want to sit here for hours while you’re reading about my strange life. But anyway, here’s the short version. When I was growing up, I lived with a very violent father. I have the scars to prove it. I’m an only child who was home schooled by my Mother which meant she was the only person in my tiny world who seemed to be on my side. We both used to take a regular beating. He died, the father, when I was 14. I thought at last that we would be free and life would take a happier turn. It did not. I don’t know and probably will never know why my Mother chose to keep me so very close to her but she did. In an obsessive often unkind way. I have never had a friend, I’ve never been to bar, I haven’t lived the life a man my age should have lived and be living. You’re probably wondering why I don’t walk away. I can’t because she needs me and all that time the father abused us both, she did what she could to keep me safe in her own way. And now she needs me to see her through to the end of her days. As for my voice, well. She took my life from me, when she had every chance to give me a brand new one after the father had passed on and became as verbally cruel to me as the father was physically. I was so angry that one day, a month before my 15th birthday I decided that I had nothing more to say to her. Nothing left to say to the world, I consciously chose never to speak again unless there was a situation so important that it called for my voice. My voice is my own and I wasn’t going to let her hear it, so I keep it shut away because I can. It’s the one thing she can’t make me do, she cannot make me speak. Just so you know, I’m not unhappy, not really. I love my books and my game, which you probably think is dumb but my favorite aunt picked it up for me from a thrift store when I was six, which was the only happy memory I have from when I was a child. I have secrets from her and those secrets keep reminding me that I’m here and that I’m alive and one day I will be free. My first step toward freedom, is you, Jensen Ackles, author of ‘The Titanium Heart’, (yes, I have a copy of your book, I’ve read it five times!) I want you to be my first ever friend, that’s if you’ll have me of course._

_Your friend, Jared Padalecki_

_Post Script, try and ask me questions which require a yes or no answer, I have a feeling that you don’t mind me asking that of you. I also have a feeling that underneath everything, we’re the same_

Jensen was rarely without speech, he could barely remember a time in his life where he didn’t have something to say about everything. His voice became lost along with Jared’s as he read the short but harrowing tale of the man’s sad life. He knew his words in response to the letter needed to be well-thought out. Some might lay a hand on Jared’s knee and tell them how sorry they are, others would offer their help to him in any way that they could. Jensen had to be himself in this situation, he had to be how he felt at that precise moment in time without betraying all that he was. Jared’s letter wasn’t one of pleading nor pity, nor one asking for help, just a brief but eloquent explanation of why. Jensen refolded the letter and tucked back inside his coat pocket.

“Why me?” Jensen asked, because honestly, why him? It could have been anyone who had helped Jared with his mangled bicycle and Jensen wasn’t known for being forthcoming when it came to people whom he didn’t know.

Jared laughed and scribbled over his notebook.

‘ _I can’t answer yes or no to that_.’

“Fair point.” Jensen nodded. “I have a lot questions.”

Jared nodded.

“But you don’t want to talk about the letter today, do you?”

Jared shook his head.

“I wish I knew what your voice sounds like.” Jensen pressed the crown of his head against the leather headrest of his seat.

‘ _You do_.’ Jared wrote, nodding at the inside breast pocket of Jensen’s jacket. The author glanced down, laying a hand over his chest. ‘ _A voice is not the noise that comes from inside of us, a voice is the ideas, the thoughts, the feelings and the words_ ’. Jared wrote and Jensen read it as it came out in ink rather than noise.

“You’re not your regular small town eccentric, are you?” Jensen laughed softly.

Jared laughed silently and shook his head.

“You really don’t mind what people say about you, do you?”  
Jared shook his head and threw in a ‘couldn’t care less’ shrug for extra emphasis. “Will you ever talk me?”

‘ _Who knows_ ’, Jared wrote adding to it a huge question mark. ‘ _Like I said, we ARE talking now_ ’.

“Yes, we are.” Jensen smiled and took another few moments to think about his next words, Jared made him think before he spoke which was a new sensation but he wanted to hold onto the honesty he has always expressed. “You’d prefer if I were honest with you, wouldn’t you?”

Jared nodded and pressed his palms together as if praying for Jensen to do just that.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since first I saw you.”  
Jared pointed at the constant ‘Why?’ already written in his notebook.

“Ah, I uh, I haven’t been able to figure that out yet.” Jensen chuckled lightly.

Jared bit his lip and leaned back in his seat before breaking the silence with frantic scratching inside his notebook. Jensen took his coffee from the cup holder and sniffed it through the little hole through which you drink. Pure sugar, barely a drink one could call coffee. He took a sip and found the beverage matched his mood. Syrupy and nostalgic.

Jared’s hand was trembling as he held the notebook up, gesturing for Jensen to take it from his hands as if Jensen was expected to snatch it away before Jared changed his mind about allowing the note to be read.

Jensen looked down at the small paragraph which took mere seconds to read but longer to process. He lifted his head, his eyes wide and unblinking as Jared sunk back against the jeeps passenger door.

“Is this true?”

Jared nodded, then gestured for Jensen to read the paragraph out loud, winding his hand from his mouth into the empty space between them.

“You want to hear it?”

Jared nodded and gestured again.

“I’ve known for a very long time that I’m gay. I know that you are too, so I wanted to make myself clear that my seeking friendship with you has nothing to do with trying anything untoward. I wanted to tell you because I know you don’t care and because I haven’t told another soul on earth. This is my coming out speech. I don’t care for it much.”

Jared shrugged and pinned his lank hair around his ears and Jensen wondered, he wondered how such an intelligent, thoughtful man could have been hidden from the world for so long. He wondered how a man of his stature could look so delicately beautiful and yet so beast-like at the same time. Jensen’s head was spinning with wonderment and sugar.

“I have so much to say to you.”

Jared nodded.

“I-” Jensen chuckled. “-I”

Jared grinned, snatching the notebook from Jensen’s hand and jotted down his voice.

‘ _You’re a writer and you’re lost for words?_ ’

“Trust me, I’m as surprised by it as you are.”

‘ _Talk, say what you feel_.’ Jared wrote, jabbing the nib of his pen against the word ‘talk’.

“Confused. Overwhelmed. Not like myself.” Jensen paused. “Beguiled.” 

Jared shook his head so violently the gesture spread through his body, his legs spasmed and sent his cooling cup of mocha spilling into Jensen’s foot well and over his suede Chelsea boots.

“I said too much.” Jensen reached out but Jared was pushing himself against the door and grabbing for the handle, then almost falling backward out of the jeep. “Please, Jared.” Jensen pleaded, oddly more concerned about Jared than the sticky mess all over the interior of the jeep and his five hundred dollar boots.

Jared shook his head, hair swinging around his ears as he dragged his bicycle from the back of jeep, Jensen set his cup down in the holder and crawled across the passenger seat to get out.

“I’m sorry, I was just being honest.” 

Jared pushed passed Jensen, leaving his battered old bicycle leaning against the gleaming bodywork of Jensen’s vehicle. He grabbed up his notebook which had fallen onto the floor of the jeep during his fit and wrote, for the first time, with a little anger in his eyes. 

“I’m not an experiment.” Jensen read out loud from the book. “No, I know you’re not.” He agreed and snapped his head back as Jared wrote some more. 

‘ _Don’t pity me_.’

“I don’t. I really don’t.”

Jared shoved his notebook and pen into his pocket then mounted his bicycle. He shook his head.

“You know where I live.” Jensen said, resigned and sad.  
Jared nodded, pushed down on the pedals of his bicycle, turned and rode onto the street, not once looking back. 

“Fuck.” Jensen watched him, until he was a blur on the horizon. “Fuck.”

*

It was on him, the odor. The moment he stepped over the threshold of his house, he could smell it, like when you cook aromatic food and the scent hangs around for a few days, having woven its molecules into fabrics and skin. Sad, another word Jensen had never been good bed fellows with. The opposite of happy, the first two words to describe emotion that a child would learn. Jensen believed the words looked bland on the page, devoid of character and lacking flair but sad was the only word his mind would dare offer. Jared gave Jensen either happy or sad. Simple, honest and held more meaning than all the synonyms one could use in place of them. Jared had stripped Jensen down to bare basics, he felt naked when he was dressed and as if years worth of repressed emotions were seeping out of his pores, mingling with Jared’s heady scent. Jensen had left the familiarity of city life because he had felt hollow, because he had felt nothing most days. Jared made him feel everything and more but was unwilling to let Jensen give it back. Wretched. Again, Jensen felt wretched.  
Jensen could talk. He had a voice, he made sounds when he felt the need to express himself. When he talked about music, literature, fucking and good wine, he said plenty but nothing. The subjects that mattered; the state of his neglected heart and his scrambled mind were heard only by himself. Maybe now it was time to talk about what mattered, maybe it was time for Jensen to give in, to relax, to behave like a human and not a machine.

“Hello. This is an unexpected treat, you never make phone calls.” Vanessa had a smile in her voice which Jensen knew to be affection. He was curled up in one corner of his couch, body tucked under a soft weave throw, hands busy with phone and wine.

“I do a lot of things I never do these days, darling Van.” Jensen could hear the monotonic drone of his voice. The slight condescension, the smugness and the elitism had gone.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa _was_ a genius but she needn’t have been to pick up on the maudlin tone of her close friend down the phone line. 

“Are you in love with Sean?”

“Uh-” The question threw Vanessa into silence for a few seconds. Feelings, particularly love had never been a topic of conversation for them unless they were discussing the varying sensations involved with sex. “-I do, yes. Why ar-”

“How do you know?” Jensen cut her off, he needed quick answers to complicated questions.

“I just do.” 

“Give it a little more fluency, darling.” Jensen let out a crackle of a sigh down the line. 

“You want me to explain to you what love is?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Vanessa pressed her phone against her ear, she couldn’t even hear Jensen breathing he had gone so deathly quiet. “Jensen, have you met someone?” And then all she heard was the strangled whine of a sob.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanksgiving was nothing but a memory that had happened a few days ago and Christmas was in the air. A holiday that Jensen had no strong opinions on, either way. Writing evaded him still, although there were pockets of his trying, Jensen had preferred his talent to flow rather than to be forced out unwillingly. He had no real way to contact Jared, the man had no phone, no email and Jensen thought that mailing a letter of apology would be too much of a risk where his mysterious mother was concerned. Jared was already mad with him, he didn’t want to make it worse. But, he _did_ know where and when Jared would be, at his stores and his specific times, raising residents eyebrows with his wild man look and his vehement smell. The silent giant.

That was it, that had been the thought, the crazy idea that Jensen’s mind threw at him. If it took two to dance the tango, then it would take two to do away with the power of voice in favor of a soundless courtship. Jensen knew it all as he sat down at his writing desk still wearing the heavy knit sweater that he had worn the last time he had been with Jared. He knew the answer to the question he had asked Vanessa. He knew the answer to the question she had asked him. And like Jared, Jensen was not willing to speak the words, not until the right moment because, well, he just had a feeling. A mug of steaming hot cocoa made from scratch was set next to his computer, a resurgence of his childhood love of sweet things had been embraced and welcomed back into his heart. The thick wool neck of his sweater sat under his chin and he was sure he could still smell Jared. He couldn’t of course, not after a week and certainly not after a week of wearing the garment constantly. It was in his head though, always the essence of the man who was slowly turning the world Jensen was so sure of on it’s head and sending it hurtling through space and time, stripping it of reason.

Jensen began.

_I’m not going to bore you with apology and banal ‘how are you’s’, it would be the polite thing to do, but you see. I have never been a polite sort of person. My point is, I said sorry and you heard it and I know you’re okay because you told me. I don’t think that you would believe what my life has become since I first met you. And when I say first, I mean from the very moment I looked at you. I think it’s what middle-aged women write about in those God-awful romance novels._

_I would like to get to know you. I would like for us to start again, forget that I said too much and overstepped the mark. I would like for us to correspond from now until Christmas, it is your choice if you would prefer not to. When you asked me to be your friend, I don’t recall giving you a clear answer. Forgive me if I did but I tend to take in only you when we’re together. No pity, no morbid curiosity, just a man who would like to know you better. And so with that in mind, I have compiled a list of questions for you to answer. I would like for you to ask me questions too, if you would like that. I obviously found you in the courtyard and will find you again the week after to receive your reply._

_Your friend, Jensen Ackles_

_It feels strangely more intimate to ask a person about their life this way but I feel as if it suits us._

1\. Have you lived in Everfall all your life?  
2\. Do you buy a book every week, because you must have dozens and dozens?  
3\. What book has moved you the most?  
4\. Are the scars you spoke about both physical and mental?  
5\. Why can’t you leave? I know you explained why but it seems an extraordinary sacrifice to give up ones life to a person who does not care about your welfare.  
6\. Are you a virgin?  
7\. I was told that you fish, would you take me out one day?  
8\. What compelled you to read ‘The Titanium Heart’ five times?  
9\. How do you like your eggs in the morning?  
10\. Spend Christmas with me?

Jensen printed the two pages out, folded them and slipped them into an ivory letter envelope. He wrote Jared’s name in cursive on the front, his name seemed to flow from Jensen’s pen with ease. The fog was drifting in over the ocean and bringing with it a few flakes of snow, true winter weather had been forecast and Jensen had the blessing of a view to watch it arrive. He pulled his socked feet up onto the edge of his chair and wrapped his hand around his mug of cocoa, Jensen chuckled to himself as his mood was rarely as peaceful as it was at that very moment. Oh, what new things a person can learn after living such a different life.

*

Jensen found Jared a week later outside the patisserie in the courtyard, placing a box of cakes into the basket at the front of his bicycle. The author laid the letter on the box with without saying a word then continued on with his day. Jensen heard the clattering wheels against the cobblestones and resisted the urge to turn around for another look, instead he stood in front of the bookstore and watched Jared ride off in the reflection of the window. That big man on his tiny bicycle. His reverie was interrupted though by a rather alarming display in the window of the bookstore. Along with holiday themed novels and cookery books sat a display of ‘The Titanium Heart’ in the center of which was a photograph of Jensen with the legend ‘Local Author – Jensen Ackles’ written underneath in one of those jaunty inappropriate fonts that small businesses tended to favor. Old Jensen, at least the Jensen who seemed easily offended by anything he didn’t agree with rose to the surface with instant outrage. And then he remembered his vow of silence. Jensen stepped back to inspect the window, making a mental note of the lettering nestled in the bottom corner listing the many ways to contact them; email, Facebook and Twitter. ‘ _The cheek of it_ ’, he thought to himself.

Jared would tell him not to worry about it, Jensen realized on his drive home and he would have been right. What difference did it make in the grand scheme of things? Jensen’s thoughts on the matter went backward and forward but were definitely in the ‘displeased’ camp by the time he had returned home, sat at his desk, opened his email and then typed out and sent a few stern words to the bookstore.

_Dear Madam,_

_I feel that the friendly nature of our first meeting has been taken out of context by yourself. I do not remember giving you permission to use my image to sell my novel, the book should sell itself. Which in every case, it has done so and quite successfully. I would also like to correct your assumption that I am a ‘local writer’. I am indeed situated in your locality but I was not when I wrote my novel, nor was I when it was published. But rest assured you will be the first to know the moment I finish my second work in your vicinity. Please remove my image and the misinformation immediately._

_Kind Regards_

_J. Ackles_

Jensen read the email back after he had sent it and was too late to retract. ‘ _That’s why people hate me_ ’, he thought to himself.

*

The author’s usually tenacious libido had been dormant for a few days, thoughts of Jared who had suddenly felt quite distant caused a few stirrings but it wasn’t until midweek when Jensen woke later than usual after a deep, dreamless sleep that he was greeted with an aggressive morning erection. And it wasn’t until he rolled over onto his front wondering what he was laying on that he noticed it either. Jensen rolled again onto his back, pushing the warmed bed sheets down to his thighs. He sucked in an internal ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’ before spending a little time admiring it. His penis was a solid as it could get, flushed red with too much blood. Jensen gave the head a pinch with his thumb and forefinger which dribbled out a clear trickle of precome, he then proceeded to rub it into the head with his thumb. Even his light touch was enough to make him flinch. His erection had zero intentions of going of its own accord, so Jensen propped himself up on his elbows to see how long it could survive without attention and how long he himself could resist from giving it what it needed.   
Jensen dreamed up a mental image of his ‘morning wood’ in the shape of a human; a middle-aged man with a buzz cut and an angry dog on the end of a heavy chain leash. He laughed, it was the first time he had heard his voice since he had taken his ‘vow of silence’. Jensen slapped a hand over his mouth as if to push the sound back in and wondered how Jared had trained his body so to laugh as silently as he had when they had holed up inside Jensen’s jeep to drink coffee. 

A challenge.

A long overdue orgasm from a fearsome penis with the volume turned down. Added to it, renewed thoughts of Jared. Jensen gave it a tug, it wasn’t what he would describe as pliable. He reached across his bed and opened his nightstand drawer, fumbling around for a small packet of lube which he located, fishing it out between two fingers. Jensen tore open the foil, dribbling its contents over the head of his cock which felt beautifully cool. A fully body shiver took the author as his hand dragged the lube down the length, then back up with a slow twist and it was no good trying to remain silent as Jensen gagged himself with his free hand. Jared was right there with him, beast of a man with his thick, dark beard and pretty face. Eyes like fucking opals and solid body that knew what hard work was. Smelled like it knew what hard work was. Solid muscle was under that coat, and that hideous green chunky knit sweater with holes and bicycle grease discoloring the hem. Jensen never went any further from what he could see and feel, never daring to wonder about body, skin tone and what Jared was offering between his firm thighs. Jared as was, was enough. But fuck, the eloquence of him, his honesty.

Jensen caught himself in the reflection of his mirrored closet, he had never liked it, the closet. It wasn’t his style when it came to home furnishings. A modern house was fine, he had filled his glass home with classic furniture and the things he cherished. But he had needed a closet and reflections of his sex life because once upon a time, Jensen used to think that rural fucking was going to be plentiful and non-stop. Yet here he was, silent and alone, yanking his neglected penis with nothing but lurid thoughts about the eccentric local yokel. Country living had not been what Jensen had expected, there wasn’t an abundance of rampant farmers willing to bounce around on Jensen’s dick, relieved to get laid because their livestock was looking more and more attractive through lack of coitus. There wasn’t even a buxom farmers wife with a huge pair of titties for Jensen to bury his face in. There was only Jared. Jared and Jensen laid out on his bed like a taut bow string, stripping his cock like his life depended on it. 

His orgasm was intense as he bit the inside of his middle finger that was clamped, vice-like over his mouth. He was impressed with himself that he had barely made a sound, aside from the occasional grunt and strangled moan which grew and died no further than in the back of his throat. Once he knew it was safe to remove his hand, Jensen laid on his bed focusing on the ceiling as he came down. His come which was plentiful and thick sat cooling over his torso was still leaking from his cock. The mild satisfaction was there, the satiation of empty balls and a used penis was there. Other emotions were there too, the ones Jensen had been ignoring for weeks. The ones he had written about but never experienced. The kind he used to sit on the bench and watch while other people lived through them. Life seemed much more simple when all he needed was a man to give him what he needed. Sex. It had always been about sex and while Jensen was open to the idea of a relationship that carried more than that, he never once thought that he was the susceptible kind. Men lined up to sleep with him, it did his ego a world of good but aside from Kevin and perhaps Ellie and a smattering of others, none of them wanted to stick around for the coffee after the big feast. Coffee. Jared.

Jensen let gravity do its thing as he rolled onto his side, he had never been squeamish about bodily fluids, even when he was laying in a pool of his own. Jensen thought.‘ _Is this what IT is like? Endless days of brooding and pining. Going to bed with yourself because there isn’t anyone else. Endless sessions of nugatory onanism which does nothing but remind you that he isn’t yours. Everything you put in your mouth tastes like ashes, the music that fills a room is white noise that makes no sense. Everything that you had once enjoyed becomes null and void. There is only, him._ ’

*

Guilt. Jensen sat down at his laptop having showered away his miserable come and once again snuggled himself up in his cozy sweater, teaming it with a pair of simple black briefs because even with the clever design of the house and his roaring log fire in the living room, it was too cold to be naked. He curled himself up into his leather writing chair and pulled his knees up against his chest, arms stretched out as he typed out a quick apology to Maggie at the bookstore which was called, unimaginatively ‘Maggie’s Books’. 

_Dear Maggie,_

_Please disregard my last email. My complaints within it were perhaps, in hindsight, a touch harsh. And for that, I apologize. I would however prefer for you to use the phrase ‘Resident author’ rather than your original choice. I would like to thank you for promoting my novel, it doesn’t need it but the effort is much appreciated._

_Kind Regards_

_J. Ackles_

Maggie hadn’t replied to Jensen’s original email but she sure as hell replied to the second.

_Dear Mr. Ackles_

_I thank you for the apology, however in lieu of your original email the display was removed from the store window this afternoon and I have no plans to put it back there. You’re a very weird and ungrateful man_

_Maggie_

Jensen laughed, out loud. Apparently not cut out for practicing complete silence after all. He sucked his laughter back in, trained himself a little to keep it quiet and again, he wondered just how Jared did it. ‘ _Weird and ungrateful_ ’. Jensen didn’t hate it, as jibes went they held truth particularly as he had been so damn rude. 

*

‘The day’ rolled around fast, a small mercy for Jensen who had been crawling the walls with sexual frustrations, writers block and that other thing which he could barely think about without giving himself hideous migraines. He wore his sweater. It had been a week of wearing it around the house every day which lead him to ponder precisely how long it had been since Jared’s clothes had last seen the inside of a washing machine. He was sure the beast showered because aside from slightly grubby hands which dictated outdoor work rather than lack of hygiene, Jared _did_ look clean. Ish. Jensen’s own sweater had bobbled a bit through constant wear, stretched a little as he had taken to tucking his knees up inside it when he was sitting at his desk enjoying an up close and personal relationship with the flashing cursor on his computer. And it smelled okay, a little unclean but nothing that would make a stranger recoil with horror. Jensen would review the answers to the questions he had set for Jared to gauge how likely it was he wouldn’t be offended by any queries about his hygiene or lack thereof. 

Jensen matched his sweater with his staple skinny jeans, his pea coat and a pair of waterproof jodhpur boots, since his favorite pair of Chelsea boots were still covered in Jared’s mocha. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Jared wouldn’t respond to his letter. It was an odd way to correspond with a person, meeting face to face and silently exchanging letters. But Jensen had never been the conventional type. ‘ _Romantic_ ’, Jensen thought as he parked the jeep up in town. That one word gave Jensen a seed of an idea as he scribbled it onto the palm of his hand with red ink pen, he hated saving notes into his phone.

Jared was standing outside the bookstore as Jensen stepped into the courtyard which in his absence had been decorated for the holidays. A small but sturdy Christmas tree in a wooden planter was sat in the center of the yard, bedecked with simple gold lights which were diffused by the light fog and gentle snowfall. Above his head as he crossed the cobble-stones to meet his bearded beau, tiny gold lamps hung from store to store caught in the light breeze, like sprites dancing around in the mist. 

Jared smiled. Jensen smiled back, biting into his bottom lip as Jared fished around in the basket on his bicycle and handed Jensen a plump envelope before grabbing Jensen’s wrist, gently pressing his thumb against the author’s pulse point and turning his hand. Jared cocked his head then an eyebrow at the red word scrawled over Jensen’s palm, Jensen chuckled and felt a swathe of heat rush from his cheeks to his neck, he shrugged modestly as Jared ducked his head, hid behind his hair and clattered across the courtyard. Jensen had to lean back against the bookstore window, his legs had turned to mush and his heart was pounding inside his chest. All of those ridiculous notions people read about in romance novels, all of them were true. He raised his hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against the inside of his wrist and the echo of Jared’s touch. BANG, BANG, BANG.

“Can you not lean against the glass!” Maggie was pressed up against the bookstore door like one of those sucker toys you see stuck to the back windows of cars. Jensen turned around, gave her an apologetic wave and took a stride back to examine the window. It was a welcome distraction from his encounter with Jared. Maggie had replaced Jensen’s display with one featuring Christmas recipe books, his photograph was now a plastic turkey with all the trimmings. ‘ _Yes, that’s just about what I expected_ ’, he thought to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Excited. Jensen didn’t do that word, kind of like Mariah ‘didn’t do stairs’. It was one of _those_ words, the feeble ones that Jensen had locked away in a chest inside his mind along with happy and sad and nice. But again, the lock on the chest had been picked and excitement had escaped. He couldn’t wait to get home, strip off to his sweater and briefs so he could curl up with a glass of red and read Jared’s letter. But as he passed the quaint little Christmas tree, he had a thought. ‘ _I’m going to buy myself a Christmas tree_ ’. The notion amused him so much that he lifted the neck of his sweater over his mouth to avoid looking like the second town oddball. The Laughing Man who finds Christmas trees funny.

And so he did just that. The local florist had a myriad of holiday flora spread out across a good half of the side-walk. Netted pines and wreaths of holly and berries, clumps of mistletoe and festive poinsettias. Jensen had, in a way, trained himself to feel neutral about Christmas. He hadn’t always. The ones he had enjoyed as a child were happy ones, full of family and tradition. Happy. Jensen had been happy then. His roomy living room with its polished cherry wood floors and high ceiling meant that Jensen had to go big or go home where Christmas trees were concerned. His amusement as he perused the trees on offer, hadn’t gone unnoticed by the proprietor who stepped outside into the snowy fog to offer her assistance.

“Do you need help choosing?” 

Jensen automatically opened his mouth to speak. He laughed again before holding up a finger. The author took his phone from his pocket, opened up his never used note taking app and tapped in a few quick words which were a pack of lies but he was hardly going to tell a stranger how he had taken a vow of silence and all the reasons that came with it.

‘ _I’ve had a cold and lost my voice, do you have anything bigger?_ ’

“Oh you poor soul. I am sorry. But no, we don’t stock anything bigger than our six-footers. There’s a farm shop, just out of town. They’ll have what you want.”

Jensen nodded as he typed.

‘ _Do you sell ornaments?_ ’

“We do, inside and to the back of the store.”

Jensen nodded again but felt compelled to type out ‘Thank you’.

“You’re welcome, dear. I hope you find your voice soon.”

It had been a simple remark, as simple as ‘get well soon’, but there was a profoundness in it that Jensen found hard to ignore. He had to get home and forget about his surprise interest in Christmas trees and ornaments. There were more pressing issues to deal with, the first being Jared’s letter.

*

_Dear Jensen_

_People don’t write letters any more so I was more than pleased to open the envelope you gave me to find that you had done just that. Thank you. I don’t agree, however that you’re impolite. I feel that perhaps environment has shaped who you are, as it does with all of us. But I would very much like to correspond with you and will certainly answer any questions you put forward, I hope that you will return the favor. I’ve attached a list of my own for you. I have only one request and that is to ask if you could hand write your replies rather than type them. I feel like I’m talking to the writer and not the man. The idea of your fingers leaving echoes of who you are over the pages makes me feel closer to you._  
_I have lived in Everfall all of my life, I was born in the cottage you took me back to the other week. I have never been out of state, nor even the county. I travel through the stories I read which leads me to answer your second question, I do have dozens of books. Hundreds! As you have probably guessed, we don’t have access to a television or the internet. My mother has always monitored every book that I bring back from Maggie’s, or so she thinks. Next time you find yourself by the cottage, take note of the small stone building to left of the house. It is my shed, and it’s where I keep my fishing rods, tackle and garden tools but the shed has a secret, a little trap door which opens down into a small cellar. It’s my library. My secret library of books that help keep me abreast of what’s happening in the world. I keep ‘The Titanium Heart’ down there. It is my haven of sanity and has been vital in preparing me for life without my mother. I read all kinds of books, I’ve even read ‘Windows for Dummies’ even though I’ve barely been near a computer! But it didn’t move me as much as your novel which I believe answers your third question_

_My scars would be more difficult to talk about if you and I were normal people sitting in a bar or curled up on a couch with coffee, chatting with our voices but since there is a distance between us, I will tell you that through reading my mental scars have healed, even the ones my mother still chooses to inflict upon me on a day to day basis. I simply read them away. I am not a stupid person, I may not have graduated high school or gone to college but I have always been smart enough to arm myself with wordy weaponry. Sorry, that was terrible! You understand what I mean, I’m sure you do. My physical scars are still with me and always will be but I have thought my way around my dealing with them dozens of times. Only two people in my life have seen them, my mother and the father. I would say that I haven’t seen them. They are on my back and the only way I can view them is by looking in the mirror. I see them then but to me because I am not directly looking at my body, they feel like they belong to somebody else, the person I used to be. Weak and feeble. If the father was here now, I would kill him. Trust me when I say, a nastier man has never drawn breath._

_I haven’t left because I’ve had nothing to run away to. I feel as if I might have now._

_I have never had a crush, I have never had a first kiss, I have never held hands with anyone apart from my mother and my aunt. I am a virgin. It has taken me a long, long time to accept it. Odd, isn’t it? After everything I have been through, being a thirty-five year old virgin has been the most difficult aspect of my somewhat sheltered life to cope with. I was beaten, but that stopped. My mother can be cruel but because I dislike her so much and because she doesn’t deserve my pity any longer, her jibes and demands are like water off a ducks back. My virginity however is with me constantly, along with my need for human contact, it is the only thing in my life that makes me feel truly sad. I hate that word, sad. It’s so small. Melancholy. That’s how I feel about being alone, melancholy._

_Ah, a lighter question! I would love for you to come out with me in the boat. Along with my library, fishing is my escape and I often imagine what it would be like to just keep going, exploring the high seas like Columbus. But yes! Come fish with me one day, one find day in the spring when the air is clean and the sun is out. Although, I would advise some proper fishing gear. As handsome as you look in your fancy clothes, they wouldn’t fare well on the perilous sea!_

_I see that books are what is going to keep us writing letters beyond Christmas. I read your novel so often because of the honesty. I was oddly uplifted by your leaving the reader in a state of brutal reality when you could have so easily had Danny and Dash walk off into the sunset, destined to be together forever. Some may have called it a cynical love story, but love isn’t just about hearts and flowers, is it? Love is...So much._

_Your question about eggs made me laugh because it sounds like an indecent proposal. In answer to your question, I like them soft boiled so that the yolk is still oozy. I like dipping Ronald’s French bread into the yolks and yes, I often wind up with egg in my beard!_

_Oh Jensen, I wish you hadn’t asked me about spending Christmas with you. In another world, another life I would have said yes in a heartbeat and in my heart, I did say yes. But I can’t. Life feels different now and I know you feel it to because every time I see you, you look dumbstruck. Like you have been walking around in the dark and someone came along and switched on the sun. I hope I haven’t said too much, I see a lot and I hear a lot. And I see you._

_I have news. I wasn’t happy exchanging letters with you only once a week, I feel you and I have a lot to say to one another, so I told my mother that I had to change my Saturday trip into town, to Tuesday. Which means we can meet twice a week. Tuesday’s and Friday’s will be my favorite days. I made up some elaborate lie about opening times, the beauty of being disconnected from the world means that she has no way of checking up on me. She’s infirm and needs care. I am a nurse and nothing more. A real nurse would actually give more of a shit than I do. I have to do this, it’s my duty as a son. Honestly, I hope she dies soon. Although sometimes bad company can be better than no company at all. And on that maudlin note, I must go. Please find attached my questions for you. I will see you at 1pm in the courtyard next Tuesday._

_With affection_

_Your friend, Jared_

Jensen couldn’t see the list of questions, they were a blur, a blur of black scrawl behind tears. Jared had got to him entirely. It wasn’t pity nor empathy, it was his honesty and the strong connection that Jensen felt toward him. Every word was written with flare, every sentence spoke to Jensen more than any novel he had ever read. He had been moved to the point of tears which just would not cease falling. Casting the letter aside, Jensen took a turn about the living room, walking in circles to calm himself down before finding himself kneeling in front of his couch, reading the letter over. Crying silently, impossible. Jensen folded the letter away, tucking back into the envelope, leaving the list of ten questions open on the coffee table.

Jensen padded over to his kitchen and flicked on his coffee machine then foraged through his fridge for sustenance. _’It’s happening, isn’t it?_ ’, he thought to himself. ‘ _All this time I thought I was immune, too cold, obsessed with shallow one night stands and had one paltry relationship with no future. I wonder if he feels the same too?_ ’. It took the preparation of one mocha and a plate of open sandwiches loaded with figs and brie for Jensen level out, to relax.

_I hope you don’t find some of these questions strange because as much as I want to get to know you, I want to get to know the world too._

1\. What happened in your life to make you want to become a writer?  
2\. I saw that you bought condoms and lube in the pharmacy that day, does that mean you have a boyfriend?  
3\. What made you move to Maine?  
4\. What kind of music do you like?  
5\. Would you like me to take a look under the hood of your jeep? It’s making a really strange rattling noise. Ha ha!  
6\. Can I come and explore the forest on your land? I’ve heard it’s very beautiful.  
7\. Did your boots survive my coffee accident? (so sorry about that)  
8\. How much of yourself did you put into ‘The Titanium Heart?’  
9\. How do _you_ like your eggs in the morning?  
10\. What is sex like?

The list was as much of a mixed bag as Jensen’s had been for Jared. Some tugged at the author’s heart, others made him chuckle and some required a lot more thought than ‘ _They’re completely ruined but I buy two of everything when it comes to clothes so it’s fine._ ’ Jensen adored Jared’s use of exclamation points, they were little punctuations of joy and imagined Jared in his bedroom, late at night writing his list under his bed sheets with only a torch to light his way. The man had an aura about him that Jensen wanted to wrap himself up in and although it was late, the author liberated a few sheets of paper from his printer, located a decent blank ink pen and wrote his reply.

*

_Dear Jared_

_I feel, no I know that our letters are going get longer and more involved as time goes on, even more so now that we have two days a week away from our busy schedules of existing to meet. It put a smile on my face to know the effort you went to do that, so I thank you. Also, I will apologize in advance for my poor handwriting. I am so used to sitting at my computer that my penmanship has been woefully neglected._

_I have so much to write in response to your letter, I barely know where to begin! Your attitude toward the way you live your life is quite inspiring. Despite all that you have endured at the hands of your parents, you seem resilient and although I imagine it hasn’t always been that way, who you are now is what matters, doesn’t it?_

_The words that truly struck a cord with me were ‘Bad company is better than no company at all’. I have been lonely for a very long time and you are the first person I have told. I think I have known for longer than I will admit. I’ve sought company and sex in all the wrong places. I know that now and it goes quite a way to explain why quick thrills, in all aspects of my life fizzled out the moment they were over. The joy I felt never flowed over into the next hour, let alone the next day. You give me joy, Jared. Joy that continues even when we are apart._

_Now, onto your questions which I originally thought would be better pondered after a good nights sleep but I couldn’t sleep if I tried, so there are my answers. I liked very much the way you worded your query about my becoming a writer. I only wish journalists used a little more flair! Writing came to me quite late in life compared to some writers. I would love to say that I used to sit in my bedroom as a teenager and write but I never did, I was out chasing girls at first and then boys. And I suppose it was ‘the boys’ and my experiences with them that compelled me to write about them. I have never been an ambitious type but once I discovered I could write, I felt unstoppable. I enjoy it, I love it. WHEN I have something to write about. And so boys, or rather in my case men and your question regarding my relationship status. I am single and have been for many years. I’ve had only one boyfriend and that ended because he, well he didn’t like me. Back then and probably only a few days ago there wasn’t a lot about me TO like. (Sorry for capitalizing words I need to emphasize, I’m not yelling)._

_There was no defining moment that I recall in my decision move my life to Maine. It was a gradual thing, the idea at least. And then one day I just booked a viewing online, flew up to see the place and bought it that same day. I just felt compelled in a way. I hadn’t written for a long time and thought a change of scene would help, so instead of buying a nice weekend retreat to hide away, I moved my life up here. Well, I say I moved my life, I moved myself. My life stayed behind and for a little while I wondered why the hell I did it. I know now. You._

_Music is my one passion after reading and it is so perceptive of you to ask rather than assuming I enjoy the theater, or film. I do enjoy those things but not as much as I love music. I’m laughing right now because you keep making me use words I tend to avoid. I’ll explain that another day. I like classical music, mostly opera. You should hear the way my house vibrates when I have the volume up, it’s quite something. Opera moves me, it makes me feel as if the waves of sound are worming their way into my pores. One thing I have never done, is fucked to opera. It makes sense, for me at least to combine the two things. Maybe I’m waiting for the right moment?_

_Ah, my jeep. Yes, that rattling noise started on my drive up here, I don’t think the poor thing was able to cope with such a long distance drive. You’re more than welcome to have a look, I am useless with machinery, but I have a feeling you’re not. And I suppose, while you’re here we could take a hike in the forest. I like the outdoors but have always felt it was best enjoyed with another person. The view from my house and across the ocean is beautiful but you would know that, since you have a perfect view of your own._

_My boots are currently sitting by my front door, where they have been since I came home that day. I’m pretty sure they’re ruined but I tend to buy two of everything when it comes to clothes and shoes so I have a brand new pair sitting in my closet waiting in the wings. I didn’t mind, accidents happen._

_Oh Jared, darling. You do know how to sneak in a heavy question, don’t you? I know for a fact that your letter to me was nothing but truth and I shall endeavor be as honest and open as you have been. I haven’t been truthful with myself for more years than I can count. I think it’s time for a change. I put my entire being into ‘The Titanium Heart’. When writing first interested me, I read a lot. Novels and factual handbooks about the art itself. The one thing that I took, out of all the many books I read was ‘Write about what you know’. So naturally, I wrote about the one thing that I was and still am clueless about; relationships. Sex was the one part, or many as you well know, that came from real life experience. You could say that I duped my readership into thinking that once I’d had a great man in my life and was writing from firsthand experience but they would be wrong. I am a fraud. I wrote about a relationship not because I understood them but because I wanted one. A real one, not the car crash of a union I was in at the time. I still do. And, I suppose my unhappy ending was a ‘fuck you’ to my two protagonists; if I can’t be happy, then why should they? Petulant way to write a book. But write it I did. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t be sitting here now, writing a letter to you._

_Once again, you have made me laugh. I like my eggs poached with a hollandaise sauce. Which I suppose sounds a bit la-di-da!_

_I will not lie when I say that I have had many sexual encounters of varying quality, some mind-blowing, some dull, occasionally eye-opening and once in a blue moon seductively kinky. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as the old adage goes. I’m sorry that I cannot offer you more than that._

_I hope my answers have given you a little insight as to who I am, it is certainly forcing me to look at myself in an entirely different way. Jared, you have done this. You have turned my world upside down. I don’t want to say too much, I don’t want to say anything that could hinder our friendship but – ah, the faithful old ‘but’, that tiny innocuous word that renders all those other words that come before it futile. But, my darling I can still feel your thumb against the inside of my wrist. The lightest pressure and imperceptible roughness of your all-weather skin. It’s still there, as if you have left a part of yourself with me. I feel as if you are bewitching me. I want you to._

_With affection_

_Jensen_

_Post Script – Ten more questions overleaf. Until next time, goodbye_

1\. What do you want to do with your life once you’re free?  
2\. Despite our many differences, what is it that makes us the same?  
3\. Are there any life milestones you feel you’ve missed out on?  
4\. Why have you got such beautiful eyes?  
5\. Have you thought about me as potentially more than a friend?  
6\. Do you ever drink alcohol?  
7\. Recommend me a book you believe I might not have read.  
8\. Would you show me you secret library one day?  
9\. How have you not made friends before I came along?  
10\. Can I buy you a new bicycle?


	9. Chapter 9

_Jared_

Jared’s cottage was nestled in a small cove, where the coastline ran ragged alongside the North Atlantic ocean. The land had been slowly wearing away since the cottage was built over one hundred years ago, eventually his home would slide into the sea but Jared wouldn’t be around to see it. The land around the cottage was lush grass with a well-tended garden, neglected chicken coops and Jared’s shed of secrets. The gray stone house and its smoking chimney sat prettily dead center overlooking an expanse of water that stretched out onto the horizon and as the land sloped down toward the rocky edge, Jared’s small fishing boat sat moored and bobbing in the sea. The scene had all the hallmarks of idyllic rural living but the inside of the cottage told another story. One of abuse, entrapment and manipulation. A silent house, at least when Jared’s mother was asleep, worn out after a day of jibes and demands. Jared had felt like the most unlovable creature on earth, until he met Jensen. 

Jared used his ‘No’ sign when ‘talking’ with his mother countless times every day. He had a vague but cautious notion that if he were to speak to her she was likely to be less cruel but after listening to her yelling at him on the Tuesday he was about to leave to meet Jensen, that notion was severely tested. She claimed not to have had any kind of discussion with Jared about changing ‘Town Day’ as it was called in the Padalecki household of two to Tuesday and accused Jared of the one thing he was doing _had_ she been abreast of her son’s sexuality.

“You’re meeting a woman, I knew it! They corrupt your mind and twist your heart!” Jared’s mother was consistently spilling bile and hatred at her son who took it all with quiet grace.

Jared pointed at his ‘No’ sign and walked out of the cottage.  
The snow had started to come down thicker than it had when Jared had last seen Jensen, huge chunks swirled around his head and settled into his beard as he rode his bicycle uphill toward town. No wonder he smelled like a swamp all the time. Jared was never idle for long, unless he was reading mother improved literature in bed or tucked away in his underground library reading about sex and relationships; just two of his favorite subjects.  
Outdoors was where Jared felt the most at home, whether out on his fishing boat for the day or pottering around in the garden. Outdoors was where he and Jensen always were when he laid in bed late at night, thinking about the handsome author in his posh city clothes who wanted to be his friend. In his mind, in the deep dark crevices where his very private thoughts lived, Jensen was more than a friend. His body had told him so when he had sat in his jeep watching Jensen read his first letter. Jared couldn’t remember reading about any man who was like Jensen in any of the dozens and dozens of books that he had read, even with vivid descriptions Jared’s mind could never conjure up anyone so handsome. Jared had been wary at first about Jensen’s interest in him, for most of his adult life, if not all of it he had been ignored or tolerated by people in the outside world and yet all of a sudden a dream came to him and the dream wanted to be his friend.

Jared heard what people said about him, he heard the jibes regarding his scruffy appearance, the way he smelled bad on some days and the gossip surrounding his horrible parents. Some days he would take the jibes home with him and read them away, most days he let the gossip and snipes wash over him. He knew that Jensen had judged him the moment they exchanged looks for the first time in the drugstore, Jared knew the looks well. Since the very first day of choosing to become mute, he used his power of silence and bent it to his will. People’s faces said a lot more than they realized.

Jensen’s figure pushing through the mist and snow as the courtyard Christmas lights glowed around him reminded Jared of his Mother’s light up Virgin Mary, the ethereal grace of an icon destined to be worshiped. Jared always got a feeling when he saw Jensen, goosebumps that would break out at the nape of his neck and spread down his spine before pressing into his body and filling his dick with blood, he’d had an erection the last two times he had been with Jensen, his unbecoming clothes hiding his ‘shame’. There was always so much green when Jensen looked at him and since the man had vowed to remain silent in a touching protest with Jared, the expression in his eyes changed. Jared would call it love if he weren’t so naive.

‘ _Hello_ ’. The word was written on Jensen’s palm in red ink, Jared nodded, laughing at their knowing one another just a little more. The author reached into his coat and pulled out his next letter before taking a step forward. It was the closet they had ever been. Jared could feel the warmth of Jensen’s body and the smell of his cologne. One soft hand wrapped around Jared’s wrist and turned his hand over, placing the letter onto his open palm.

‘ _I’ve missed you_ ’. The words, again in red ink were written on Jensen’s other palm. Jared nodded. Jensen turned the letter over to reveal another message. ‘ _Until Friday, my darling_ ’.  
Jared heard himself gulp and could not control his eyes fluttering closed as Jensen’s soft, gentle fingers slipped away from his hand before finding themselves gripping a handful of Jared’s sweater. The fabric was tugged, Jared opened his eyes. Jensen was close enough to kiss but the notion crossed neither of their minds. Jared nodded and leaned into the touch as soft knuckles pressed against his ribcage. Jensen laughed, he grinned and winked before stepping away into the fog and leaving Jared with a wrecked body and mind. He had come inside his clothes.

Contrary to popular opinion amongst the ignorant residents of Everfall, Jared washed. He showered every day before bed. If he turned up in town smelling like a fish market, it was because he had been out fishing since the crack of dawn. If he had dirty hands it was soil from gardening or grease from mending his bicycle. Jared just happened to be an excessive sweater who rarely did laundry aside from his underwear which were small and easy to wash by hand, the Padalecki’s did not own a washing machine. As usual, Jared had to wait for his mother to fall asleep before he could partake in any of his secret activities; reading Jensen’s very erotic description of gay group sex (which Jared had been sure was more a recounting than a fiction), masturbating and most recently, reading the author’s compelling letters. Jared made sure his mother was knocked out by slipping an extra sleeping pill into her bedtime cup of tea, sneaking to his room in the attic, a place he was certain his mother couldn’t get to but wasn’t prepared to take any chances. He slipped into bed, pulling the sheets up to his neck and read Jensen’s letter. Jared read the final paragraph six times over.

_I hope my answers have given you a little insight as to who I am, it is certainly forcing me to look at myself in an entirely different way. Jared, you have done this. You have turned my world upside down. I don’t want to say too much, I don’t want to say anything that could hinder our friendship but – ah, the faithful old ‘but’, that tiny innocuous word that renders all those words that come before it futile. But, my darling I can still feel your thumb against the inside of my wrist. The lightest pressure and imperceptible roughness of your all-weather skin. It’s still there, as if you have left a part of yourself with me. I feel as if you are bewitching me. I want you to._

Jared held the letter against his lips and prayed that he wasn’t part of some elaborate prank. But he couldn’t have been, there had been no lie in the way Jensen had looked at him in the courtyard, no lie in the way he touched him. Jared had stood in the middle of a busy town and ejaculated in his underwear because Jensen had touched his hand and called him darling. He wondered if maybe it was down to nothing more than lack of human contact. Jared’s body had been crying out to be touched for so many years he had lost count of them. He wanted to get swept away but caution and fear were keeping him relatively grounded. And if Jared had one thing in abundance, it was time to think. Time to consider his reply. Two days until they would meet again.

*

Jensen could do little else but think and squirm on the drive back to his glass house. His plan to touch had yielded deeper feelings than he had imagined as his silent courtship with Jared continued. It had taken every will he could muster not to drag his wild man of Maine back to his jeep. Not to kiss him, not to break his vow by verbally begging him to-. Jensen laughed at his even wondering about making love. As far as he was aware, he had never ‘made love’ to a man. Even Kevin who had fallen for Jensen within weeks of their knowing one another had never been made love to. Kevin had been fucked this way and that, they’d had sex. They had screwed. But whatever Kevin had been feeling at the time, Jensen’s carnal needs had never come from a place of love. Jensen laughed again. Love. 

Erections have never been questioned unless you counted the ones that popped up uninvited during Thanksgiving dinner with your grandparents or during Geometry where the sexiest thing in the room was a mechanical pencil. Since Jensen had become sexually active at the age of fifteen whereby surprise boners were part of his daily routine he got used to popping them for damn good reasons. At first it had been teacher cleavage and pussy mounds in white gym panties offered by nubile cheerleaders. The erection that changed everything for Jensen was the brazen sight of Joshua Degrassi drying off his dick and balls after a hot and frantic game of field hockey; right in Jensen’s face. It was to become the hard on that never went away, the boner for boys. As Jensen learned more about sex, his nether regions behaved in a more gentleman-like manner. His penis became choosy in its reactions with high standards not unlike its master.

Jared wasn’t, even in Jensen’s often depraved mind, waiting in the courtyard on all fours with a prepped ass hole and an open mind, he was never dressed to impress, he was just Jared. Their brief moment of closeness in the early December snow had Jensen tugging at the hem of his pea coat to cover his burgeoning erection which remained with him at varying stages of firmness until he got home with the overpowering need to put himself out of his misery. After five consecutive tugs, Jensen was coming in his kitchen while his coffee machine hummed and bubbled behind him. He hadn’t even taken his coat off. And declared in the few blissful moments of ejaculation that Jared Padalecki was the sexiest man Jensen had ever met. 

*

Jensen filled the next two days with idle note taking of little significance, eating, listening to music and avoiding phone calls from his ex-agent, Ellie, Vanessa and some number that wasn’t in his list of contacts. When the calls ceased late Wednesday afternoon and Jensen was feeling a tad more sociable he threw each of his phone pests a quick text.

To his ex agent, whose voice mails he hadn’t bothered to listen to - _I don’t owe you any money, I don’t owe you another book. Fuck off_

To Ellie, who had requested Jensen’s presence for a three-way cam night - _Can’t tonight and probably never will again. No, I never will again. It has been fun, Ellie_

To Vanessa, who had been concerned about her dear friends’ strange behavior - _Don’t worry about me, Van. I’ve met a man, but I’m not ready to talk about him yet_

*

The bodies were heaving and heavy, pulsing to the beat of a silent drumbeat. Jensen couldn’t count them. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eight? The bed felt like liquid and as if he were being swallowed into the mattress, pinned down by the faceless men. The swelling flesh in his throat was unforgiving and relentless, as was the dick splitting him open. He shook his head despite his obvious pleasure as his cock was greedily sucked into the mouth of the man who was stealing his air with his own throbbing member. Jensen’s arms were stretched out, Christ-like, fingers sliding into an ass hole, one hand loosely wrapped around a ridged, weeping penis as it rubbed at the word ‘ _romantic_ ’ scrawled on his palm in red ink. Jensen could do nothing but go with it, body rolling in waves as he was fucked, sucked and he stroked and fingered. The image at the foot of the bed drew his attention as it floated dark within a thick fog, it reached out to him, silent. Jensen wanted the shadow that was begging for him but nothing could save him from the men assaulting his body.

Come.

“Fuck.” The word came out as easy as breathing the moment Jensen felt the remnants of his wet dream smothered over his penis and clean on yesterday bed sheets. The author rarely remembered his dreams and had been blessed with the ability to sleep soundly and deeply for many years. A wet one was last endured when he was seventeen and even then they had never felt as vivid as the one he had just dreamed up. Jensen’s overwhelming emotion was one of disappointment at hearing his voice which was elbowed out of his mind by one of resolve. Dreams and dream meanings had always felt like hokey aspects of psychology to Jensen, a practice embraced by kooky women who shove crystals into their vaginas and named their children Serendipity. However, Jensen’s come drenched nighttime imagining had felt like one part of his life ending and the next beginning. The author lifted his head to look at himself in the reflection of his mirrored closet. ‘ _The next time you speak,_ ’ he thought to himself, ‘ _you’re going to tell him how you feel._ ’.

*

Jensen had noticed but never actually took in how the residents of Everfall cared for their town. The sidewalks and pavements were always clean of trash and gum and spit and all the other unsavory things Jensen used to have to dance around when he lived in the city. The parking meters gleamed and were cleared of snow by who ever happened to get there first, all the street lamps worked giving off a gentle amber glow rather than harsh light pollution; Jensen had become to love how they looked through the almost constant ocean fog. The store fronts always looked neat and tidy, there were never signs of peeling paintwork or ailing businesses. The town was flourishing. The author, then wasn’t surprised to see that the town and the nook of a courtyard, cleared of snow and fully open for business. A four wheel drive jeep had seemed like a dumb choice for the city but even with her unidentified rattling, Jensen’s car was more than able to negotiate the fresh and heavy snowfall. He couldn’t have begun to imagine what Jared’s perilous uphill bicycle ride must have been like in such hazardous conditions. 

Jared had survived it and was unusually sitting at one of the few tables outside Tillers with two coffees and a row of neon colored Post-It notes stuck to the table top which were curling in the damp air and fluttering in the light breeze. As Jensen approached the table, all amusement and intrigue he skidded, one booted foot losing its grip on a slippery cobble. He righted himself, just quick enough to avoid a tumble and could see Jared laughing silently at the little mishap. Jensen threw him a playful eye roll, joining Jared at the table.

‘ _I wanted to watch you read my letter_.’ Jared held the first of several notes up. Jensen grinned at him as he was handed a block of Post-Its in orange and a black ink pen. 

‘ _I thought we weren’t doing this. I thought we were just writing letters. Also, it’s a bit cold?_?’ Jensen tried to be a little more economical with his words to keep the ‘conversation’ flowing but his verbosity always got the better of him. Jared cocked his head, shook it and scribbled out a reply.

‘ _I miss looking at you. And we’re still writing letters but I missed your face. Also, look up._ ’

Jensen didn’t hesitate in his reply.

‘ _I missed you too_.’ He wrote, glancing above his head and laughing but still somehow looking at Jared who was pink in the face from the cold. ‘ _Ah, outdoor heater_.’

Jared nodded, plucking up a note from the table which curled from the damp the moment he handed it to Jensen. It was like unrolling a miniature scroll.

‘ _I got you a coffee, it’s just a latte but they do gingerbread syrup at Christmas. Is that okay?_ ’

‘ _Never had it before, I’m willing to try!_ ’ Jensen wrote then added a quick ‘Thank you’ underneath. Jared nodded but Jensen held up a finger, filling one of the small Post-Its with words. ‘ _I spoke yesterday, by mistake. I said ‘fuck’. I won’t tell you why, I’ll save that for another day. I don’t know how you keep it up._ ’  


Jared was reading as Jensen wrote, body shaking with soft laughter. Still silent but oddly not lacking the meaning without volume.

‘ _It takes practice. Why did you say fuck? Tell me_.’

Jensen set his pen down, took up his coffee which sent an instant waft of gingerbread up into his nose and cocked a knowing eyebrow at Jared. He smirked too for added meaning. Jared’s mouth fell open, coffee cup raised to hide a touch of embarrassment. ‘Oh’ He mouthed. Jensen nodded and felt as if he had been taken back to a more innocent time when discussions about sex where equally shy-making and funny. Jared changed the subject even if he looked puffed because he just _knew_.

‘ _Read my letter now?_ ’

Jensen nodded, taking the letter from Jared’s hand, long fingers skinny and pink with cold.

‘ _No gloves?_ ’ Jensen jotted hastily. Jared shook his head.  


Jared’s letter was shorter than previously, two pages. There was a little relief on Jensen’s part. Despite his enjoyment in their chaste courtship, he still felt exposed, sitting there in the solitude of reading while being watched. The act itself was intimate in a way Jensen hadn’t experienced before. He didn’t hate it.

_Dear Jensen_

_Meeting you has been a test for me. For the many years I have been silent, it has never been a huge struggle. Even when I’m standing there being yelled at by my mother. I’ve not had anything I’ve wanted to say to her for many years but with you, I want to say everything. And as much as I know you know that anything can be expressed with the power of words, when it comes to what we have, the will to use my voice again to express myself has never felt so strong. But that being said, I made a promise to myself that when I do speak again it will be because I have the most important and meaningful words to say. And, I know that you will be the first one to hear me speak._  
_There is so much I wish to say in response to your letter, but since I decided to be here when you read it, I thought that responding to your questions would be quicker. Look at me._

Jensen looked up from the letter. Jared’s face said _everything_. There was pain there but also a look of affection that Jensen had never seen before. The author reached under the table, he fumbled until he had one of Jared’s hands in his own and Jared sat up as if he’d had an electric shock. Jensen rubbed his thumb over Jared’s knuckles and continued to read.

_The answer to your first question is a simple one; live the life I always have but with my voice and with you. I don’t think I need to elaborate further but it does lead me nicely to the next question. Why you and I are the same. I hope I didn’t offend you when I said that, but people who come from different poles can still have a lot in common. When it comes to human nature, we can be wearing a pair of old boots with holes in or fancy designer clothes, but we can still experience the same emotions. I know we’re both lonely, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. And I know that we both want things that are out of our reach. No, I think we **wanted** things out of our reach. I believe we’ve found it, don’t you?_

_As for milestones, I honestly don’t think I’ve missed out on much because I know I still have time to do all of those things. I could still go to college and learn to drive and my virginity is still up for the taking._

Jensen’s eyes grew saucer wide, he shot a look at Jared who _knew_. Their hands gripped a little tighter underneath the table and Jensen used his legs to shift his chair closer, close enough for Jared to read along with him.

_Do you think I have beautiful eyes then?_ Jensen read. He tucked the letter against his chest and wrote a little note.  
‘ _I think you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen’._  
Jared’s face did nothing and he made no attempt to reply, instead he slowly let his head come to rest on Jensen’s shoulder.

_I think they’re just my eyes but I thank you for the compliment. It’s the first one I’ve ever had. And, unless I’ve fallen for some horrible prank because I know there have been whisperings and gossip about us, I do think of you as more than a friend. It scares me, thrills me and makes me wonder what a man such as yourself sees in a man like me. I know that the people here think I’m strange and I would put money on it that we’re being watched right now with disbelief. You, the rich author and your beautiful house by the sea. Handsome and sexy. And me. The town weirdo. I know what they say about me. I know they say I smell and that I’m dumb. Difference with you Jensen, is that you made the effort to get to know me. I’d heard people talk about you too; calling you rude and snobbish. I guess people like to judge before they make any attempt to educate themselves. I wasn’t put off by what people said and nor were you. That’s another reason why we’re the same._

_I love how there is no consistency with our questions! I do drink alcohol but not very often. Once in a while I’ll buy myself a beer to take out fishing. I’ve never had hard liquor though. ___

__

__Jensen took a moment to sip from his coffee cup, it was loaded with sugar which instantly made his jaw ache. He was still rubbing Jared’s hand, gentle circles interspersed with the slow mingling of fingers. Jensen licked a little unexpected cream from his lips, Jared’s eyes homed in on Jensen’s tongue and his body jolted involuntarily as if leaning in a for kiss. The author set his cup down and wrote on a Post-It._ _

__‘ _I know. But not here, not now my darling_.’_ _

__Jared nodded and squeezed Jensen’s hand which found itself on one of Jared’s solid thighs. The author barely reacted as he continued to read on._ _

__

___I would recommended your rereading your own novel because I feel as if you don’t realize what you have written. I started reading it again this morning while I was pretending to ready my rods for my fishing trip tomorrow. You need to read it, and take it in. You’ll be shocked and pleasantly surprised._ _ _

___I will definitely show you my secret library. It has taken me years to get it exactly how I want it. I have an armchair down there too!_ _ _

___In answer to why I haven’t made friends before now is complicated and long-winded. It’s funny because I was so excited to write you letters, Jensen. But now we have got to know one another better, all I want to do is talk my ass off! Forget all the years of silence, they have been a breeze compared to the will I have to muster when I’m around you. We will **both** talk our asses off soon. I promise. And no, you cannot buy me a new bicycle. It’s a very kind offer but I made a pact with myself that when the time is right, I’m going to learn to drive. So when that happens, you can buy me a car!_ _ _

__

__Jensen laughed and felt Jared chuckle against his shoulder. He had forgotten they were sitting outside and hadn’t noticed that it had started to snow again. The warmth from Jared’s body was like a furnace which only enhanced the musky scent huffing from beneath his wooly sweater and out through the heavy collar. Jensen was achingly hard again._ _

__

___So, there you have it for today. I do apologize again for not responding to your answers but I know that we will talk soon and will have so much to say to one another. I feel though that the most vital words we have to exchange will be done so briefly. Two more points, Jensen. Firstly, please don’t ever stop calling me ‘darling’. Ever. Secondly, when you held my sweater on Tuesday, I could feel your knuckles against my body. It was the lightest of touches, so brief and innocent but it made me come. Right there in the middle of the courtyard, I came. I wondered for a while if it was just my lack of experience and the fact that I have never been touched by anyone in that way. But it was you Jensen. I know that it was because of you._ _ _

__

___With affection_ _ _

___Your Jared_ _ _

__

__Jensen tightened the grip around Jared’s hand, shifting his chair as close as the legs would allow, the noise of the metal feet against the cobblestones grated and turned a few heads. Heads who had already been stealing glances of puzzlement at the strange union, locked together in their own secret, silent world. Jensen could barely control his breathing, deep chest heaving breaths taking in Jared’s scent. Every inch of his body felt elevated. The author folded the letter against his chest, shoving it inside his coat to free his other hand which he slipped under the table until all four hands were wrapped around one another. Their silence spoke volumes._ _


	10. Chapter 10

Jensen had always believed that the thrill was in the chase and never in the capture. But even he played fast and loose with his own beliefs. The only evidence of ‘capture’ in his life had been the four years he had spent with Kevin whereby he became the one entrapped in a relationship he often wanted out of. It was stressful, suffocating and something he should have ended long before he had the courage to allow it. Even Jensen with his cold and practical heart had never wanted to hurt Kevin, his cowardice was the overwhelming factor that kept them going long after their expiry date as a couple. Even the angry, passionate make up sex fizzled out toward the end. And after, Jensen chose to follow his dick rather than rely on matters of the heart. It became a part of him, seeking men for casual sex to relieve his libido, his boredom and his loneliness. Cheap thrills and one night encounters which offered excitement but no lasting memories. Even his hedonistic night of a shared bed with three had to be written about immediately after the fact. It had been an experience but made him feel nothing only days after it had happened. ‘ _Oh yeah, that happened_.’

Jensen didn’t believe in love because he had never experienced it first hand. Not once had he fallen for one of the dozens of men he’d had in his bed, even the ones who came back for more. The majority of them were forgotten like yesterday’s news unless they had some special skill set in the bedroom or were female with a lovely pair of tits. He knew how to love as a friend and as a son and perhaps offer feigned affection as a reluctant boyfriend but that was all. Jensen knew his own mind which is why on the drive home from his surprise coffee date with Jared the author could not help but now picture his wild man of Maine as if he were some scholar whose lifes work was to debunk well-known theories like the one where a falling penny dropped from the top of the Empire State Building could kill a man. Jared had debunked Jensen’s ideas about himself, had torn out the pages and forced Jensen to start again from the beginning. What a shock for Jensen to discover that he too was a part of the human race and susceptible to love just like we all are. What Jensen thought he wanted had been so spectacularly wrong the notion made him feel foolish. His entire life had been the equivalent of painting a house fit only for demolition, a succession of pretty quick fixes for a broken heart. Jared _was_ pretty though, but not to Jensen’s usual delusional high standards. No, nothing like the cologne soaked, gym-bunny metro-sexual pretty boys who Jensen had bouncing around on his cock. Jared surpassed them all. It was his uniqueness, his captivating eyes which held everything about himself within them. His honesty was so damn attractive to Jensen it made his muddled head spin. Jared Padalecki was perfect. Maybe not to the outside world. He was scruffy and smelly and eccentric but he was perfect to Jensen. That alone made Jensen feel like the happiest man on earth.

*

Just before their parting, Jared had handed Jensen another letter after the author had noted that there were no ‘ten questions’ for him to answer. Jared wrote that things had changed between them, Jensen had agreed and that the second letter contained an amended answer to one of Jensen’s earlier questions. Jensen kissed the back of Jared’s hand before he walked away and left Jared sitting alone outside in the snow sipping lukewarm coffee. He had hated how the sight made his heart ache.

Jensen had promised to bring his answer with him on the next Tuesday that they would meet.

_Dear Jensen_

_You asked me a few letters ago if I would spend Christmas with you. I won’t insult your intelligence by reminding you of my answer but after giving it some thought, I would like to change it. I can spend the eve of Christmas Eve eve with you! Once a month I cycle up to the big supermarket, as you can imagine it takes me a long while and I’m usually gone for several hours. I like wandering around and looking at things, I suppose that along with reading it keeps me connected in some small way with the big wide world. So would you? Would you like to spend an afternoon with me on December 22nd? I haven’t yet decided what we could do because you have yet to accept my invitation and since you are more worldly about dates and such, perhaps I could leave it to you._

_Even though I know we’ve just parted, I cannot wait to see you again_

_With affection_

_Your Jared_

_Post Script – Give me your answer next week, we can meet for coffee again. x_

The idea of a whole afternoon with Jared was a lot for Jensen to take in however it was the inclusion of the innocuous little ‘x’ at the very end of his letter that moved Jensen more than anything. The stripping down of Jensen Ackles into a simple man had truly begun. Jared did everything and more to him. Just the very thought of him sent Jensen’s stomach whirling like a Dervish. And as much as Jared turned the author on in ways he had not thought possible, their having sex wasn’t always in the forefront of Jensen’s mind. Most of the time, all Jensen felt he wanted to do was to just look at him.

It was finally time for Jensen to truly join the land of the loving and he needed to tell someone. Jensen opened up the rarely used text app on his phone and messaged Vanessa.

**Jensen:** Hey Van, so sorry I’ve been off-grid for so long. Something unexpected has happened. I know a phone call would be easier and I can’t begin to explain in a text why we can’t talk but I need your advice

‘ _I need your advice_ ’, if ever there were four words to come from an ice queen such as Jensen Ackles to pique the interest of his old friend, it was ‘ _I need your advice_ ’. Vanessa replied in seconds.

**Vanessa:** Is this about the mystery man? And since when did you need advice? He has an anus, you stick it in there, lol

**Jensen:** Ha ha. And yes, it’s about the mystery man. I’m not going to tease or bore you with a lengthy prologue. I think I’m in love with him

**Vanessa:** Okay, that I was not expecting. Why do you only think?

**Jensen:** I have never been in love before, Van. You know that. I’m unsure whether my feelings are love or something else

**Vanessa:** I see, how long have you known him? I assume you’ve slept with him?

**Jensen:** I’ve known Jared for only a matter of weeks, we’ve met up for coffee a couple of times. The first time didn’t go so well, but we met today and it was pretty incredible. And no, we haven't slept together

**Vanessa:** You’ve been on dates with this guy AND you’ve not fucked him yet?!

**Jensen:** Don’t say fuck, Van. That is not who Jared is

**Vanessa:** Are you okay? Have you had a stroke?

**Jensen:** If you’re going to take the piss out of me, I’d rather we spoke about the weather, Van.

**Vanessa:** Jesus, Jen. Calm down, I’m sorry. Your being a sensitive soul isn’t something I’m used to. Who is this Jared anyway, how did you meet him?

**Jensen:** We just met in town. He fishes. Cares for his mother

**Vanessa:** A fisherman who lives with his mother? Okay. But what does he look like?

**Jensen:** Let’s just say that what I believed to be my type, is as far away from what I truly desire than is humanly possible

**Vanessa:** No, you can’t go back to being a vague ass keeping everything to yourself. What does he look like?

**Jensen:** Tall, heavily bearded, slim. Beautiful eyes.

**Vanessa:** Sounds exactly like every guy you’ve ever fucked, Jen

**Jensen:** He’s not. Not at all. He’s kind, smart, sweet natured. Scruffy as hell. I think of him as my ‘Wild Man of Maine’. He’s so pure and untouched. I want to cherish him

**Vanessa:** And you can honestly say that you’ve not slept with him?

**Jensen:** I honestly haven’t, Van. We want to, we’ve not said that we do but the sexual tension whenever we’re together is better than any sex I’ve ever had

**Vanessa:** Yeah, you love him. 

Jensen knew. He wasn’t a stupid man, a misguided one on occasion but never dumb. But there was something profound about seeing his feelings confirmed by a friend who knew him so well, Jensen felt weighted with so much emotion that he cried.

**Vanessa:** Still there Jen?

**Jensen:** Yeah, I’m here. God, I do love him

**Vanessa:** Well, who would have thought that Maine was where the miracles happened? Are you happy, Jen?

**Jensen:** I am, I’m every synonym of happy. He’s a delightful man, stunning to look at. I kissed his hand today and I can sill feel his skin against my lips

**Vanessa:** I’m smiling quite a lot now because of this. It’s about time it happened for you instead of your having to write about it. And you’ve stopped calling me darling ;)

**Jensen:** Jared is my absolute darling these days. And it means something more now. But what? I haven’t written about anything like this before, lol

**Vanessa:** Can’t believe you of all people just said ‘lol’. But seriously Jensen, read your damn book darling. It’s all in there, although let’s hope you have a happier ending

**Jensen:** Funny you should say that, Jared told me to read my book today too

**Vanessa:** You have always had the capacity to fall in love, Jensen. Your high-standards always got in the way

**Jensen:** If you met Jared you would see that my high-standards have been met and then some

Jensen was a fool in love. Or rather a former fool who had found love in a tiny fishing town in Maine and with a man who Jensen wouldn’t have acknowledged if he had passed him in the city street. He had once lived in a world of shallow dating apps whereby each man was judged within mere seconds. One after the other of mirror selfies, gym shots, _I just woke up like this_ photos carefully cultivated to appear candid and modest. Jensen never bought into that side of it, he knew they were selling themselves because that was entirely the point. And then there was Jared, scuffing and shuffling into Jensen’s life in a fog of body odor in his gigantic military coat and holey sweater, hiding behind an untamed beard and wrapping himself up in silence. Jensen, although at first surprised by his natural intrigue surrounding Jared which may have first been nothing but morbid fascination, ‘ _Oo, look at the village idiot_ ’ it switched into raw desire so fast that Jensen could barely keep up. His body, heart and mind had joined forces. Jensen stood no chance.

Most of all, the second mention of his book in just one day had puzzled him. He knew the novel inside and out. It was a tale of passion and sex. Except, it wasn’t. It was a story about love. Like science-fictions writers, the good ones at least are able to create world’s beyond understanding of our own and mold them into something believable, Jensen had done much the same with ‘The Titanium Heart’. During the writing process he could only imagine what being in love was like, to him it was interpretation. But even then. He had known. 

*

The soft glow of the dying embers nestled in the living room fire place snapped every once in while, the only thing breaking the silence as Jensen sat on his couch sorting through a scrapbook of reviews of his book. Vanessa had put the journal together for him, cutout notices from newspapers and magazines with printed out reviews from every source she found on the internet, all bound and glued inside a leather notebook. Jensen had been happy to read and discard the commentary offered by anyone from reputable arts editors down to tin-pot journos writing for county newspapers. But.

“I don’t want or need a scrapbook, Van. Trust me when I say, I revel in the good reviews and amuse myself with the bad ones. I don’t need to be reminded, half of these people can’t spell.”

“You don’t have to read it now, Jen. But trust _me_ when I say that one day, you’ll thank me for this.” Vanessa had shoved the gift at Jensen’s chest. “Don’t be such an ungrateful snob.”

Vanessa didn’t have much of a flair for scrapbooking, the wonky cut-outs looked as if they had been slapped in the book with Elmer’s which was already drying out and causing some of the snippets to curl away from the pages, much like Jared’s outdoor Post-Its. Jensen took a long sip from a glass of rioja, he wasn’t usually a fan of Spanish wine but as he savored it, allowing the liquid to soak into his palate he realized that he still wasn’t a fan of cheap Spanish wine but he was in the mood to get a little drunk and you don’t use vintage Bordeaux to do that. The reviews that Vanessa had collated were impressive, the sheer amount of time and effort that went into compiling the book conjured up a little guilt which swirled around in his stomach with his sub par wine.  
‘I don’t believe I even thanked Van for this,’ Jensen thought to himself. ‘I can be such an asshole.’

Jensen read the reviews with a new discovered interest and gradually found himself enlightened to astonishing levels.

_Ackles has captured what it means to be in love without the hearts and flowers we are used to reading about in romance novels_

_The sheer level of raw love is something that many of us will not experience but it is written with such heart and unending honesty that I believe every word he writes_

_While the sex Jensen Ackles writes about has caused some controversy due to its graphic but truthful nature, the real warnings should come alongside his heartbreaking approach to love_

_Mr. Ackles has cleverly captured what it means to suffer at the hands of an intense love affair. I cried my eyes out all the way through!_

_Finally, an author who knows love at its most tribal_

_So intimately written, I felt as if I were reading the diary of a heartbroken man. Incredibly moving and powerful. I can’t recommend this book enough_

_Some might be put off by the relationship between two men, unfortunately we still live in a world of prejudice. But I say, don’t be. Anyone who is anyone who has known love will ‘get it’. Love is love_

Jensen had written his book from experience, at least when it came to the sex bits. _I knew about the sex bits_ , he thought to himself. He had never set out to write a romance novel, just an honest story about two men who after they partake in a night of group sex go on to form a bond. Jensen had purposely avoided mentions of love and romance but going by the endless reviews in front of him, he apparently hadn’t. He had been okay with people referring to it as a love story believing them to have misunderstood the meaning behind it. It hadn’t been those who read it who had missed the point, it was Jensen. The man who had written it.

_One of the most poignant and realistic portrayals of LGBT love that was ever written_

Jensen had put his heart and soul into his novel which he took to mean that he had shared some of his most intimate and erotic sexual encounters. Baring his soul had meant recounting his experiences in the bedroom, the touches, the sensations and long drawn out passages detailing the intensity of the male orgasm. His heart was his passion behind his storytelling when in reality and with maddening hindsight it had been nothing more simple as his own desire to be loved. All of that realization lead to one thought, ‘ _I shared so much more than I had intended_ ’. From Jensen’s perspective and after grabbing one of his many copies of ‘The Titanium Heart’ from his bookshelf and speed reading through passages he knew how to find with ease, the author noticed with renewed clarity that the book read more like a diary. A diary of a man who wanted to be loved and have that loved return. A wish-list whereby each wish was to fall in love. Jensen forgot about his wine, leaving the glass teetering on the edge of his coffee table while he flicked through the pages reading choice dialogue and forgoing every mention of sex. Jensen had shared much more about himself than he had first thought.

*

The morning after Jensen pottered around his house, headache free which was thanks to his derailing the idea of getting drunk in favor of having a major epiphany and spent the rest of the night moving about his house in slow motion, taking in his art and books with new found clarity. A bronze sculpture that Jensen had purchased two years ago when he first found himself with more money than common sense was now so much more than two naked men locked in an embrace. It was more than an erotic and slightly tacky piece of art; their respective erect cocks had always amused Jensen, particularly when he had the occasional family member visit his home. But now it felt romantic and loving. And even the fog had lifted, leaving nothing behind except for a gentle snow fall.

‘I’m in love’, Jensen thought to himself as he watched the snow drift over the ocean while he sipped on his mid morning coffee. He laughed at what a fraud he had been. Snobbery and elitism had defined him for a time because he hadn’t always been that way. Jensen had been fun-loving and happy, approachable and kind. Something had happened along the way which Jensen couldn’t figure out and quite frankly, with his new found happiness he wasn’t inclined to go digging into the past to find out. Now was what was important. Now and Jared.

*

The ten foot tall Christmas tree had been a mistake. Jensen had happily carried in bags and boxes of tree lights and ornaments, humming Prokofiev’s ‘Troika from Lieutenant Kije’ and embracing the holiday season like a clean shaven Santa Claus. He figured that had Jared been with him, his wild man of Maine would have hoisted the pine onto one of his broad shoulders and carried it into the house without batting an eyelid. Not to say that Jensen was a weak man, just softened by the sedentary lifestyle of a writer. That claim amused Jensen as he dragged the netted tree from his jeep, up the wooden steps and inside, bringing with it a trail of powdery snow and a smattering of pine needles. Trees do not like to be dragged. 

Decorating a house for Christmas was a task, Jensen learned. Another discovery in his new life of living in the real world with rest of the simple folks. The cheerful soul who sold him his Christmas tree also persuaded Jensen into purchasing a wooden planter, a something called a ‘tree-skirt’, a handbook about the care of Christmas trees and a bottle of ‘potion’ called ‘Needle Saver!’ which promised to keep your tree from shedding its needles, at least up until the big day. There was a lot of information to take in when it came to Christmas tree care, Jensen believed that you just stuck in your living room, decorated it and that was that. After reading the brief handbook Jensen set the tree up in a spacious corner, away from the fire and all the other dangers the book outlined before realizing that there was no chance of his reaching the top part of the tree to decorate it. He didn’t own ladders or tools or anything a ‘man’ should have for jobs around the home. Jensen hadn’t ever owned even a single screwdriver. Useless poncy writer man.


	11. Chapter 11

What a sight for sore eyes Jared Padalecki was. Even when he was sitting at what Jensen thought of as ‘their table’ outside the café in the snow, clearly cold and tired from his bicycle ride and sporting an adorable little dew drop on the end of his nose which Jensen wiped away with the edge of his sleeve as he sat down to join him. Jared went beet red but his eyelashes fluttered with affection. As the Friday before, Jared had ordered coffee and there was a fresh row of Post-Its laid out on table. Jared offered Jensen his coffee which had a neon pink label slapped on the side.

‘ _You pulled a face at the gingerbread syrup last time, so I got you a latte with nothing in it_.’

Jensen grinned because he distinctly remembered not having expressed his dislike to the sugary beverage. He grabbed up the little pen that Jared had laid out with his Post-Its.

‘ _You notice everything, don’t you?_ ’ Jensen wrote.

Jared nodded and smirked with a little cock of the head which Jensen knew to be a surge of confidence. Jensen laid a hand on the table, palm up. It was still warm after the drive into town which meant Jared’s fingers felt like icicles against his skin.

‘ _Gloves_.’ Jensen wrote in block letters with his left hand. Jared shrugged and dipped the tips of his fingers inside the cuff of Jensen’s pea coat. They held hands while Jared went through his Post-Its. 

‘ _How are you?_ ’ ‘ _I’m excited about our Christmas. That’s if your answer is yes!_ ’ ‘ _I’ve missed you_.’

Jensen reached inside his coat, handing Jared his next letter which had ‘ _To My Jared, read this while I’m here_ ’ written on the front of the envelope. The pair pouted in unison as Jared freed his hand from around Jensen’s to open the letter.

_My darling Jared_

_Three days feel like three years since I met you. Seeing you two days a week felt like enough. It doesn’t any more. There is so much I want to say to you and while the idea of letters seemed like a good one to begin with, knowing that one day we’ll sit next to one another and use our voices to converse has meant that I want to save everything for that moment. But for now and in answer to your question, I would very much like to spend December 22nd with you. I didn’t have to think long and hard about it. I want to._

_I bought a Christmas tree a few days ago, I have never bought any kind of holiday paraphernalia but you Jared have forced me to look at life differently. I like your view. And I want to share it with you. So, with that in mind I cordially invite you to dinner at my home. We can eat and drink and celebrate Christmas together. Nothing on earth would give me as much pleasure._  
_I’ll come and get you from your cottage so you don’t have to cycle back. You can stay for as little or as long a time as you feel comfortable. I look forward to spending long overdue quality time with you, my darling._

_With unending affection_

_Your Jensen x_

Jared’s hand crept over Jensen’s thigh which was unexpected but utterly welcomed. The author shifted his seat closer to Jared’s until they were touching, shoulder to shoulder. Jared jabbed at the line Jensen had wrote about his collecting Jared from his cottage. He shook his head then gestured at the courtyard.

‘ _I’ll meet you here instead then, my darling._ ’ Jensen wrote.

Jared nodded then the pair slipped into their own version of silence as they sipped their coffees and stroked each others joined hands which rested against the table until Jared raised a finger. He reached into his pocket and took out a folded Post-It, he laughed silently as he handed it to Jensen. It was a lot more verbose than his usual quick notes.

‘ _People are gossiping about us. It’s funny to me because I usually wander around like a ghost but they think because I don’t speak that it means I don’t hear either. Especially those posh women in the café. I’ve always heard everything they’ve said about me, all of my life. They get it wrong every time. That’s what has been different about you. I thought you should know, we’re the current subject of the town gossip_.’ 

Jensen laughed, shrugging against Jared’s heavy coat. 

‘ _I don’t care._ ’ Jensen wrote. Jared laughed, nodding in agreement. 

Their silence befell them again as they finished their coffees, both instinctively knowing when their short time together was up. Jensen lifted Jared’s hand to his mouth and pressed a firm kiss against it, now warmed from Jensen’s body heat. Jared bit his lip and sucked in an involuntary gasp as Jensen leaned in slow and kissed Jared’s forehead. His lips lingered and a hand came to rest against Jared’s heavily bearded cheek. Jared hastily wrapped his fingers around Jensen’s wrist whose immediate thought was that he had gone to far but Jared did nothing more but hold Jensen in place; both keen to savor even the most innocent of connections. It was their chaste version of a goodbye kiss. Jensen was panting as if he’d had all the air drawn out from his lungs as he pulled away. He opened his mouth to talk, successfully stopping himself from speaking just in time. Jared laughed but nodded in perceptive response to Jensen’s unspoken words.

*

_Jared_

There had been attempts during Jared’s tumultuous childhood at celebrating Christmas. None of which in retrospect conjured up the supposed joy people are meant to feel toward the holiday season. Gifts were only ever practical items like winter hats, coats, scarves and occasionally a pair of shoes; Jared was grateful for everything he received. His father saw the holiday season and birthdays as a waste of money, a belief which at the time meant food was there but basic and the family lived as if 20th century had never happened. Mr. Padalecki’s attitudes toward shielding his family from the devils of technology and general influences from the outside world only served to put Jared in a privileged position upon the event of the mans death. His only child inherited everything. The perfectly placed bay side cottage was Jared’s, the land, the money that his father had been so reluctant to spend to keep his family fed, healthy and within the realms of normality of how regular folks lived were his son’s. Jared had no real idea where his father acquired the money he had left behind, particularly the crates of quarter rolls that had and did go toward his widow and son’s continued lifestyle of simplicity. Jared lived the life that had been handed to him and believed that through the virtue of patience he would be rewarded.

Jared had always felt that in many aspects of his life that he was on the outside looking in, nose pressed up against the window of a restaurant like a homeless person desperate for even a morsel of sustenance to ease his hunger for just something to make him feel like a member of the human race. The holiday season often hit him hard since it was the time of the year for family and love. He enjoyed all the glitter and sparkle and trimmings but those trifles were superfluous in comparison to the joy he got from watching families at the big store out of town, lining up to meet Santa Claus, the children stiff with excitement. Jared was never envious, he was just pleased that those children were happy and that their parents were making their dreams come true, not giving them nightmares that would last into adulthood. Jensen felt like the reward that Jared deserved and he was proof of the cliché, ‘good things come to those who wait’.

*

Jensen came to the realization that he hadn’t asked what kind of food and drink Jared liked. He knew that he enjoyed coffee and chocolate, the evidence of his mocha still staining Jensen’s suede boots reminded him as he left his glass house for a trip into town to stock up on Christmas fayre. Beyond that, he had no clue. As he braced himself against the heavy snowfall which was coming in sideways from over the ocean, Jensen made the quick decision to drive to the huge out of town supermarket that Jared had mentioned. The author had been blessed to have lived in a part of the city where cute delis and high-end supermarkets were the norm, much like the boutique fooderies of Everfall. Jensen despised those huge ‘we sell everything under one roof’ stores that sat on the edge of small towns, ugly but practical buildings ruining pretty landscapes but serving the lazy shopper with too much choice. He hadn’t been to such an establishment for almost ten years, maybe it was time for Jensen to find his place amongst the ordinary shopping folks too. 

Lights. That was Jensen’s immediate thought as he pushed his shopping cart over the threshold of the supermarket. Harsh, unforgiving lights and then noise. The author ‘pulled over’ to keep himself out of harms way as crazy holiday shoppers zipped around him while he shoved his wireless earpods into his ears to drown out the jingle jangle of holiday muzak, the occasional shrill childish scream and intermittent loudspeaker announcements which were never intelligible but oddly understood by all who worked there. Jensen chose Wagner from his extensive list of composers, aggressive German opera was what he needed to prepare himself for battle. 

Choice. There was so much choice that Jensen knew within moments that it would be dark outside by the time he left the retail hell-scape he found himself in. He liked it though and slowly went overboard with the sheer amount of ‘like’ he had for the place, filling his cart with too many kinds of vegetables in case Jared was a vegetarian and then several cuts of different meats because on further thought Jared definitely looked like a meat eater. But who could tell? Jared had the appearance of a homeless man with zero social skills and the intelligence of a used tea bag when Jensen first saw him. Perhaps Jared did go nuts for vegetables after all. ‘ _Get everything_ ’, Jensen thought to himself. And so he did.

Halfway through his epic grocery shop it occurred to Jensen that he needed to buy Jared a gift. The idea came to him with such violent urgency that he tore his earpods from his ears so that he could think straight. Jensen wasn’t well-known for gift buying but it wasn’t because he was ungenerous or tight with his money, his groaning grocery cart was proof of that but more like lacking in imagination. Ironic for a writer who was able to create a fictional world which went on to be a best-seller. Gift buying was beyond him. The author pulled his cart over to think. What on earth would Jared like? Books were the obvious choice, Jensen knew that but since he had yet to sample the delights of Jared’s secret library he was clueless as to what the man already owned. Clothes felt like an insult and the idea of presenting Jared with a brand new closet of supermarket quality clothes could be misconstrued as an insult, the same went with toiletries. Jared had specifically told Jensen not to buy him a bicycle which were also oddly available in-store and stacked up next to a display of Coca-Cola cans set out in the shape of Santa Claus. 

A multi-pack of pens and a stack of Post-It notes would have been a cute, fun gift if Jensen didn’t know that their silent conversations were bound to end sooner than later. ‘ _Cute and fun?_ ’, Jensen thought to himself. ‘ _Did I really just think that?_ ’. Jensen’s mind mentally scrolled through idea after idea, each one discarded the moment he thought of them. A phone. A coat. Pens. A bicycle. Gloves lingered in his mind for a few seconds longer than the others but was too thrown out on account of it being a dull choice for the man he loves. Jensen dipped his head to hide a smile which had formed at the thought of being so sickeningly in love to avoid looking like the grinning supermarket weirdo loitering by the canned soups. The author took his phone from inside his coat and paused Wagner who was still vibrating against the fabric from his earpods inside pocket before tapping four words into Google ‘gifts for book lovers’. The search results threw up the usual bookworm paraphernalia; tote bags, pins, mugs and t-shirts all displaying the unimaginative legend ‘I love books’ but it wasn’t until Jensen reached the end of the result that he found a website that sold framed book covers. He bookmarked the website so he could give the idea that formed in his mind some thought. It could just be the perfect gift. Wagner assisted Jensen through the remainder of his shopping trip and he left the store relatively unscathed two hours later under the cover of darkness just as predicted.

*

Jensen was used to the snowy winters of New York city but Maine was further North and jutted out into the Atlantic ocean as if it were begging for much more interesting weather. It was wilder and more unpredictable than Jensen had first imagined, the change suited him perfectly. He knew he could make a lasting home in the state. Stephen King was never going to put him off from living in what seemed to be the horror capital of the USA. Jensen slipped and trudged through the snow that had drifted around his home as he dragged in bag after bag of food from his jeep, he supposed he should purchase one of those giant snow shovels which reminded him that as much as he had fallen in love with the town, he hadn’t been prepared for most of that had been thrown at him.

It took a generous amount of time for Jensen to pack everything away, he set a large wooden bowl on his central kitchen counter and filled it with fruit and then dragged his 1920’s occasional table which had been serving its purpose of only being utilized occasionally beside the tree, loading it with bottles of spirits and mixers. He’d add ice to the bucket nearer the time. Jensen had gone to considerably less effort when he used to invite his literary ‘friends’ over for drinks in his former city apartment. Some people are more worth the effort than others, it was as simple as that.  
Jensen indeed felt as if he had been waiting for Jared to come into his life. He hadn’t thought about, it hadn’t once crossed his mind that perhaps someone would wander in and change everything. Now that it had happened, it fell into place so beautifully that Jensen felt as if there was a natural poetry to it. All the time, all his life he had forced men into his life for varying reasons and rarely questioned why each time he felt hollow and unsatisfied once they had been disposed off. He used men like plastic drinking straws, they were fine for one go until they were thrown into the trash only to unwittingly pollute Jensen’s mind in their wake. The author could not believe himself, in hindsight and currently. He liked himself again. And everything he was living was now so big. Love was big and had been learned at first hand.

*

_An excerpt from ‘The Titanium Heart’_

_There was a connection. You don’t sleep with a man over and over without some sort of connection. And chemistry too. But it was sex, good sex. Danny talked of love from day two. But sex is sex, love is love and never the twain shall meet, Dash had said. And Dash was steadfast in his beliefs, he had been stubbornly headstrong since he could walk and it was never a case of his ‘giving in’, he had nothing to give. The sex had always been enough._

_Dash was outside, he couldn’t be in there. Not in that room. It didn’t feel like the sort room he wanted to place himself in. The monitors were beeping, slow and rhythmic. The soft sobs of Danny’s mother sounded like far away echoes but were so drenched in pain, Dash felt as cold as if he were out in a snowstorm with no coat._

_Dash was outside, he couldn’t be in there. Not in that room. He could hear the soft, well-trained voices of the two nurses that were in there. So matter-of-fact yet genuine in their sadness. They were explaining what was going to happen. Dash wanted to know. The voices were low. He caught words like ‘convulsions’ and ‘change in breathing’. Danny’s mother cried out. Dash’s heart broke all over again_

_Dash was outside, he couldn’t be in there. Not in that room. The coffee he had been holding was now as cold as his untrained heart. Danny’s mother was escorted out into the hall way, left to wait with a friendly arm around her as her son was removed from the world. The beeps stopped. Dash turned his head, eyes peering through the spotless blinds. Danny wasn’t gone just yet._

_Dash was inside, he had to be in there. In that room. Danny’s mother was helping a nurse assist Danny through a violent convulsion as his body fought for oxygen. Dash stayed in the shadows, watching as his boy was made comfortable. He wanted to climb up onto that bed and die with him._

*

One o’clock, or so Jensen presumed. He couldn’t recall having discussed the time they would meet, only the location. Jared was an excellent timekeeper and a creature of habit, it had to be 1pm. Jensen had left his house in an immaculate but festive state. An ice bucket had been prepared, nibbles were laid out and the fire was ready to be lit and stoked. There were two gifts sat under the tree and a list of carefully chosen holiday music was waiting to be played. Jensen was excited in his own quiet way, he had got himself ready in complete silence, even his busy mind had shut down as he forced himself to lower his expectations. Jared was a massively good thing in his life, everything about him surpassed every last expectation Jensen had thought he had wanted. That being said, as much as Jensen and his home were silent, the author could not stop himself from smiling as if the North Atlantic breeze had swept up and frozen his face into one of perpetual joy. He didn’t hate it. 

Jensen had parked his jeep up in town and walked/skidded around to the courtyard a few minutes early to grab he and Jared a festive beverage to warm themselves up. Jensen knew Jared would be freezing cold by the time he arrived in town and besides, Jensen had to give him something upon welcome. He forewent their table and stood sipping his coffee, a lively concoction of triple espresso and a pump of hazelnuts. The snow had been lighter than the previous few days but the temperature had dipped considerably. Another layer of clothing or two wouldn’t have gone amiss. 1pm ticked over but only by a minute. The town was quite busy, full of last minute shoppers and people out for lunch. Jensen nodded friendly ‘hellos’ to those who passed him, Christmas tunes filtered out the small stores in the courtyard and a young man, whom Jensen did not know, came rushing breathlessly into the courtyard.

“There’s been an accident. It’s that Jared.” 

Jensen’s entire world sunk to the pit of his stomach and everything around him ground to a halt as if the scene had been paused and then switched into slow motion. He dropped both cups, the contents splashing up his legs. Jensen ran toward the young man, grabbing onto him to steady himself and to demand answers. He spoke.

“Where? Where is he?” 

“At the intersection, just before you come into town. A car hit him.”

Jensen ran again, pushing past a wandering gathering crowd. The emergency services were already there, blue lights muted through the light snowfall and descending fog. Jensen swallowed down a mouthful of vomit as he ran on legs that were functioning on pure adrenaline. A car was sat at the center of the road, one corner crushed like a balled up sheet of paper, Jensen could see Jared on the ground surrounded by EMT’s and police officer as he pushed himself onto the scene.

“Can you keep back, sir.” A second police officer with a round belly and kind face placed an arm across Jensen’s chest which felt like a violation against his need to be by Jared’s side.

“I know him.” 

“We all know one another around here.”

“He’s my boyfriend.” Jensen pressed, glancing at the scene. Jared’s bicycle was a mangled mess by the side of the road, twisted out of shape and beyond repair. “Please.” Jensen couldn’t keep still, as he pushed against the police officers arm. He could see Jared, just enough to see blood spattered across the road. He cried. “Please.”

The police officer allowed Jensen onto the scene who was then immediately approached by a paramedic.

“He’s your friend?”

“Boyfriend.” Jensen nodded. “Can I?” He took a step forward but again was stopped. 

“Not until we’ve got him inside the ambulance. What’s his name? He doesn’t have any identification on him.” The paramedic asked, dispelling the myth of a close-knit, friendly community.

“Jared. His name is Jared. Please let me.”

“Just stay back and once we have him stable and ready to move, you can.”

Jensen nodded. People were being kind. He knew that but he needed to be there, he needed to be right next to Jared to hold his hand and tell him that he was there with him. Jensen couldn’t watch as they fussed around him, cutting at his clothes, the only ones Jared probably owned and how his beautiful face was unrecognizable. A mask of blood and beard. The author _had_ to make himself useful, he couldn’t stand around idly with nothing but fear coursing through his body. Jensen lifted Jared’s bicycle from the road with hands that were violently shaking, laying it with care at the kerbside. As he bent down he smiled with pure affection as dozens of shiny quarters twinkled at him from the asphalt. He picked each one up, pocketing one after another, after another until he found a bloodied envelope with his own named scrawled across the front in Jared’s unmistakeably beautiful hand. Jensen sucked in a sob, folded the envelope and tucked it inside his coat pocket.

“Sir?” 

Jensen looked up at the paramedic he had spoken to only minutes ago.

“Yes?”

“You can come and sit with Jared now.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Jensen smiled. He jingled as he stood, weighed down with quarters and grief.


	12. Chapter 12

Jensen sat inside the ambulance, both hands tucked inside his pockets, fingers fiddling with the loose quarters which he attempted to count so he could think about anything else but the neck brace, the wires and the mask over over Jared’s face. There was no face to see, half covered with blood soaked beard, the other in drying blood, like a grotesque Hallowe’en mask. The paramedic leaned back to sit next to Jensen which the author took as a good sign.

“Jared’s breathing is good.” The paramedic said in that soft, matter-of-fact tone that Jensen knew about. Coming straight from real life experience during the loss of his mother.

“Good.” Jensen nodded, fingers still threading through the coins in his pocket. 

“What’s your name?”

“Jensen.”

“And your Jared’s friend? Boyfriend?” Jensen had never been small talks biggest fan but it was interesting to hear his voice again and it kept him from thinking of the last few pages of ‘The Titanium Heart’.

“I am. Well-” Jensen chuckled, stealing a glance at Jared as his slow breaths steamed the inside of his oxygen mask. His smile was wiped from his face in a second. “-I was hoping to be. I was going to ask him today.”

“You still can. He looks worse than he is, I promise you that.”

“Is he?”

“Hm.” The paramedic smiled, sweet little thing. Younger than both Jared and Jensen but looked as if she had already seen too much. “He’ll be fine.”

Jensen was passed from person to person as Jared was wheeled into the emergency room with what Jensen noticed little urgency which eased his concerns a fraction. He was guided toward the nurses station and left to deal with ‘details’, had Jensen not been there Jared would have been just another John Doe. The very idea of Jared being in the hospital alone and unidentified was enough for his eyes to overfill with tears which did nothing at first but skew his vision until he blinked them away and rubbed them from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry about having to bombard you questions, sir.” The nurse behind the pretty pastel pink desk smiled up at him. That sympathy smile which is hardwired into those dealing with the bereft and bewildered every day of their lives. 

“That’s alright, I understand.” Jensen nodded.

“Can I have the patients full name please?”

“Jared Padalecki.” 

The nurse typed the name in with impressively swift efficiency.  
“That’s a nice easy one. Jared Tristan Padalecki, born July 19th, 1985?”

“Yes.” Of course Jensen knew nothing of the new information that was handed to him, it was the least enjoyable way to find out that Jared was a summer baby and had the middle name of a love story hero.

“Bay Cottage, Corf Bay, Everfall is listed as his address but his details haven’t updated for quite a few years.”

“Bay Cottage?” Jensen smiled. What had his life become? 

“Yes, that’s correct. Does he still live there?”

“He does.” Jensen knew that Jared had lived there all his life, in a cottage that was the ‘Bay’ to Jensen’s home ‘Whitby’. If anything in life could be more than meant to be.

“It also says that he has no insurance on file.”

“I’ll pay his bill.” Jensen said in a flash, quietly riled that money had come into the conversation while Jared was laying broken and bloodied in a hospital bed.

“Sure.” The nurse smiled. “His next of kin is listed as a Martha Padalecki of the same address-”

“I’m his next of kin.” Jensen interrupted. The nurse took down his details during which a very important situation occurred to the author. “Jared’s mother is sick, he cares for her. Is there someone I should speak to about that? Someplace she can go to get special care?”

“Let me get her details up, Mr. Ackles.” 

Dealing with Jared’s mother was the last thing Jensen needed, he wanted to be by Jared’s side again. It had been all of fifteen minutes since Jensen last saw him and every nurse that walked from the emergency room had Jensen standing to attention, bracing himself for bad news.

“Okay, I can see here that Mrs. Padalecki was diagnosed with stage four liver disease several months ago. You say that Mr. Padalecki is her main carer?”

“Yes.” 

“I feel that perhaps at this point, since Mr. Padalecki is currently incapacitated it would be in everyone’s best interest that Mrs. Padalecki should be moved to a more suitable environment.”

“Do it.” Jensen nodded. “Again, I’ll pay. Whatever she needs by way of care, send the bill to me.” 

“Of course, we’ll arrange for an ambulance to move her into a nursing home this afternoon.”

Jensen smiled to himself. From what Jared had told him about his mother, it was likely that the idea of her being moved to someplace else and out of her home would be a challenge for those sent only to assist her. But Jensen was doing it for Jared, the slow and gradual move toward freedom.

*

Relatives rooms always felt as if they had been manufactured in some soulless factory and sent out to every hospital in the world, flat packed pastel tone walls with a kit of ropey looking potted plants and Thomas Kinkade art prints. Jensen supposed the colors were meant to be calming as he lowered himself down in a dusky pink vinyl armchair which creaked under his weight. His legs felt as if he had run miles without a break and his eyes were stinging like hell. He needed to hear a friendly voice. 

“Hello, Van.”

“Hello, yourself. He speaks at last.” Vanessa laughed, it was good to hear laughter. Jensen got straight to it.

“I’m at the hospital, Van. Jared has been hit by a car.” Jensen sobbed, hearing those words was a trigger too far. Vanessa was silent down the other end of the phone, giving her friend time to gather himself. “He’s fine but-”

“Jensen, I am so sorry. You say he’s fine though?”

“I think so. He was breathing when they brought him in. The, the uh-” Jensen couldn’t think of the word, his mind was shot to pieces. “-the, the ambulance person. Uh, paramedic said he was going to be okay.”

“They wouldn’t lie to you, Jen.”

“I know.” Jensen went quiet for a few moments until he was brave enough to muster what he had been thinking the second he knew that Jared had been hurt. “This is like in the book.” He whispered.

“Jen, no. It’s not. You said yourself that Jared is going to be okay.”

“Then why does it feel like it?”

“It would. Of course it would. But it isn’t.” More silence from both ends broken eventually by Vanessa’s next question. “You’re deeply in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Like nothing I have ever encountered in life or in fiction.”

“Have you told him yet?”

“No. I have been waiting for the right time. I think we both have.”

“Tell him soon, Jen. Don’t let this slip through your fingers.”

“I will and I won’t.” Jensen chuckled lightly. “I should go, I’ll text you when I know more.”

“All right. I’m here, Jen. Whenever you need me.”

“Thank you. Bye, Van.”

Jensen pocketed his phone and felt the folded envelope against the back of his fingers. He slipped it out from his pocket and unfolded it, the dried blood caused the paper to rip, revealing the small note written on the letter inside the envelope. 

‘ _I am ready to talk to the world today and you are my world_.’

Jensen was racked with sobs instantly, holding the note against his cheek, crumpling it in a fist of frustration and anger. He felt so cheated for himself and for Jared, happiness had found them both but chance had taken it away.

*

“Mr. Ackles?” The voice was gentle, with it came the smell of coffee and a hand against his knee. He had fallen asleep.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” Jensen said, sitting up and pulling himself back into the armchair. “I can’t believe I slept at a time like this.”

“Don’t worry. It’s more common than you’d think. Worry and grief are exhausting.” The nurse smiled up at Jensen, another tiny scrap of a woman. “I brought you some coffee because I thought you might need your wits about you, Jared is awake.”

“Is he?” Jensen smiled through tears, hand over his mouth, nodding with understanding and relief.

“He is.” The nurse stood up, bending over as she wrapped Jensen’s had around the plastic cup of coffee as if she were molding clay. “He’s a little concussed and he has two cracked ribs, a minor wrist fracture and lacerations down the right side of his body.”

“Okay.” Jensen nodded. 

“He’s quite the walking miracle.” The nurse laughed lightly, making her way to the door.

“How so?”

“Well, I read the police report that came in with him. The car that hit him was going at quite a speed and upon impact he was thrown from his bicycle several feet into the air before landing on the asphalt. He’s incredibly lucky.”

“Jesus.” Jensen laughed a little too before imagining the sheer trauma and fear Jared must have been through. “Jesus.” He said again in an amended tone.

“I do have a slight concern.” The nurse started before changing tack at the sight of Jensen’s worried expression.

“Oh?”

“He isn’t talking.”

“Oh.” Jensen chuckled, pulling a face as he gulped down his ghastly lukewarm coffee. “He’s selectively mute.”

“I see. That makes sense and is also a relief. He’s out of the ER now, so whenever you’re ready you can go and see him.”

“I’m ready now.” Jensen crossed the room in three eager strides, stepping out the room with the nurse. 

“Your ‘Titanium Man’ is in the forth room on the left.” The nurse threw the direction over her shoulder. 

“What did you call him?” Jensen laughed, he had heard her, of course but couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to make light of the situation.”

“You haven’t, at all. Why did you call him that?” Jensen was quite diverted.

“It’s me and some of the other nurses. He came away from a terrible accident relatively unscathed, so we’ve been calling him ‘Titanium Man’. He’s like a superhero made of metal.” 

“That’s charming and more right than you’ll ever understand.” Jensen laughed, shaking his head in disbelief until he found himself outside Jared’s room. He peered in through the blinds to prepare himself. Jared had been cleaned up and was laying in bed in a hospital gown which made his large frame look much slimmer than Jensen was used to seeing. His right arm was strapped across his chest and his forehead was bandaged heavily. Jensen couldn’t bear for Jared to be alone for a second longer.

“Hello, my darling.” Jensen smiled, poking his head around the door. Jared’s body sunk into the bed out of relief that Jensen was right there with him and then he cried. “Don’t you start.” He smiled, gesturing at his own ruddy face and red ringed eyes.   
Jensen wrapped his hand around Jared’s, pressing a kiss against it and stroking his hair. He hadn’t seen so much of Jared before, long bare arms covered in light hair and a boney collarbone just about visible under Jared’s beard.

“How do you feel?” Jensen juggled holding onto Jared’s hand and reaching behind him to drag a chair closer to his bedside.

Jared shrugged, wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes.

“In pain?”

Jared shook his head.

“Pleased to see me?” Jensen grinned.

Jared nodded and cried a little more.

“I found your quarters all over the road.”

Jared’s eyes widened, a slight smile through tears.

“I have a pocket full of them.”

Jared laughed, winced some but turned his head to get a real look at Jensen.

“You’re going to be fine, but I think you may bounce.” Jensen smirked. 

Jared twisted his hand from Jensen’s fingers, gesturing at Jensen’s mouth.

“I had to talk, I had to give them the few details I knew about you. I know a lot more now.”

Jared nodded, pushing his fingers back between Jensen’s.

“Um, your mother.”

Jared rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I kind of arranged for her to be taken someplace more suitable for the level of care she needs.”

Jared blinked through more burgeoning tears, he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

“Did I do the wrong thing?”

Jared shook his head, squeezing Jensen’s hand tightly.

“Good. Also, you’re coming to stay with me while you recuperate.”  
Jared’s eyes flew open, saucer wide.

“If that’s okay. We can still have Christmas. If you want to?”

Jared nodded, slowly lifting his arm, pawing at Jensen’s shoulder.

“Cuddle?”

Jared nodded even though all they could manage was Jensen laying his head against Jared’s shoulder lightly. He smelled horribly clean and clinical but Jensen lapped up every second he laid there.

“I found your letter.” Jensen looked up, his nose brushed up into Jared’s beard. 

Jared cocked an eyebrow. 

“Not ready today?”

Jared shook his head and counted out twenty-five taps with his fingers against Jensen’s shoulder.

“Christmas day, my darling?” 

Jared nodded yes.

*

Leaving Jared behind after his doctor suggested an overnight stay for observation was one of the hardest things Jensen had ever had to do in his life. Jared had refused Jensen entry to Bay Cottage to retrieve any clothes and personal items he might have needed in lieu of his discharge which lead Jensen to promise to bring some clothes of his own for Jared to go home in. Everything he had been wearing was torn, soaked with blood or had been cut from his body which had saddened Jensen into believing they were all the clothes that Jared owned. Before he left, Jensen asked for Jared’s shoe size. A question which lead to their first risqué exchange.

“I might have to go into town and buy you some sneakers or something?” Jensen suggested.

Jared nodded, unable to say anything more since his accident had knocked out his writing hand like some twist of bad luck.

“What size shoe are you?” Jensen stole a glance toward the end of the bed, Jared’s feet were bare under the blanket that was covering him, Jensen liked the shape his toes made through the fabric.

Jared tapped Jensen on the arm to draw his gaze back his face. He flashed the number twelve with his fingers.

“Size twelve?” Jensen smirked.

Jared nodded, rolling his eyes.

“Is the old adage true?” 

Jared flushed pink and covered his face with his good hand. He gave Jensen a modest shrug.

“Ah, so it is.” 

Jensen reluctantly left Jared with the ghost of a kiss against his forehead, both fought hard not to shed any more tears. He took a cab back into town which had closed for business for the night, cursing himself when he found his jeep covered with snow which he cleared with his sleeves, revealing a plastic covered parking ticket. It had been a very stressful and expensive day. Like with most trauma there can often come from it feelings of hope and happy twists of fate. Jensen would obviously have preferred Jared not to have been thrown into the air by a speeding metal deathtrap but their day together was soon to be extended into many days. Sometimes you cannot enjoy the good that life offers you without enduring a little bad to get there. Life was like a child’s playground, all swings and roundabouts. 

Sleep evaded Jensen for a good many hours until at 2am he gave in and took a few of his expired anti-depressants which initially wired him wide-awake until he fell asleep abruptly on the couch. Long sleep. The hospital had called mid morning while Jensen had been passed out on the couch. He called back the very second he saw the three missed calls which sent cold shivers down his back.

“Hello, I’m responding to missed calls regarding Mr. Padalecki?”

“Mr. Ackles?”

“Yes, what’s happened? Is Jared okay?”

“He’s as right as rain. I was just calling to tell you that he was discharged by the doctor during his morning rounds. So he’s ready for you collect whenever you’re ready.”

Jensen pulled the phone from his face to check the time.

“Okay, what time do patients have their lunch?”

“It’s usually between noon and one.”

“I’ll come after.”

“All right, I’ll let Jared know.”

“Thank you.”

Jensen tossed his phone onto the couch and rubbed his face, he could feel the deep sleep creases against his fingers, criss-crossing his cheeks. Jared was coming home.

“Sort some clothes, go into town for shoes, grab coffee.” Jensen said to himself, rising from the warmth of his couch feeling fragile and nowhere near awake. “Grab coffee, sort some clothes, go into town for shoes.” He said, amending his first plan as he reassessed his ability to function.

*

Two hours later Jensen was back beside Jared with a backpack full of clothes and toiletries. Jared was sitting on the edge of the bed looking marginally brighter, his bare legs which Jensen was viewing for the first time were swinging over the edge. He was solid muscle from what Jensen could gather, tight sinew which twisted and flexed as he swung them. 

“Are you grazed all the way up one side of your body?” Jensen asked, distracting himself from Jared’s near state of undress but with genuine concern. Jared’s right leg looked raw and the wound disappeared up inside his gown.

Jared nodded, gesturing with one finger from his ankle to his shoulder.

“Ouch.” 

Jared nodded but shrugged casually.

Jensen laid out a pair of light grey sweatpants, a white t-shirt, a brand new pair of boxers and socks. 

“They’re not very exciting.” Jensen sighed, pulling a black hoodie from the backpack.

Jared waved a hand in the air and smiled.

“Um.” Jensen took a step back to survey the next step. Undressing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, Jensen wanted to help more than any human being has ever wanted to help anyone. However, he knew that Jared was naked under his hospital gown. “I’ll get a nurse to dress you.”

Jared nodded, huffing out a little sigh of relief.

“It doesn’t seem right, does it? Not at the moment.”

Jared gave Jensen the most affectionate smile the author had ever seen.

“Don’t you think it’s funny?”

Jared cocked his head to one side as Jensen took a tentative step forward, lightly pushing a little hair from Jared’s forehead.

“How well you and I communicate without words.”

Jared nodded, leaning into the touch. They held one another’s gazes for as long as either could bear before Jensen placed a kiss against Jared’s forehead.

“I’ll go and find a nurse.” Jensen said softly. 

The grounds surrounding the hospital were like an ice rink, the sidewalk hadn’t been gritted for a good while and Jensen felt as if Jared was made of crystal as he assisted his most very precious cargo into the jeep. Jared held his arm as they took careful, slow steps to the waiting car. Jensen helped with everything. Getting Jared into the car, adjusting the seat for his comfort, ensuring the seat belt was fastened but not putting too much pressure on his injuries. Jared lapped up every second of attention that Jensen laid upon him.

“All set, my darling. Let’s go home.”


	13. Chapter 13

Jensen drove all the way back to the glass house in the manner of a partially-sighted pensioner, very slowly and with too much caution. He had never been a reckless driver but could be confident to the point of arrogance on occasion. Jensen just wanted he and Jared back at his home, in one piece, sipping hot chocolate by the lights of the Christmas tree. The snow that was falling in huge clumps was driving into the jeep sideways and turning into ice the moment it adhered to the ground, even in Jensen’s four wheel drive he could feel the give whenever his foot pressed a little harder on the gas, mostly out of habit.

“I have never known my ass hole to clench as much as it is now.” Jensen muttered through gritted teeth and a ridged jaw. Jared though laughed, wrapping his arms around his bruised ribs. “I’m so sorry. That wasn’t meant to make you laugh. I am literally bricking it right now.” 

Jared waved a hand in the air then settled it against Jensen’s thigh. It was warm, wide and wholly welcomed. Jensen calmed down a notch within mere seconds.

“You’re so maddeningly right for me.” Jensen sighed. They fell back into silence until they arrived home.

The path Jensen had cleared before leaving to bring Jared home had been covered by rapidly falling and drifting snow. It was barely visible as he parked the jeep as close as he could manage. He fussed around Jared like a mother hen, pulling the hood of his jacket up and offering a steady arm to help Jared up the precarious steps until they were safe inside, shaking off fluffy snowflakes and feeling the instant warmth of the underfloor heating. 

“Here, let me.” Jensen said, removing his coat in order to kneel at Jared’s feet and unlace his sneakers. “I feel that this is exactly where I should be, kneeling at the feet of a deity.” 

Jared’s hair swung from side to side, shaking his head but not minding Jensen’s talk.

“Yes.” Jensen argued. “Now, would you like a drink? Something to eat? I think I’d like a cup of cocoa.”

Jared nodded.

“Please, make yourself at home.” Jensen stepped back, gesturing at his sprawling living room only find Jared was almost flush against his back as he crossed from the entry-way to the kitchen. “Am _I_ home?” He said, glancing over his shoulder while reaching behind him, settling a hand lightly against Jared’s waist.   
Jared nodded, body hard and muscular against Jensen’s back. The author savored the contact, so chaste but everything he ever wanted.

“Go and sit, I’ll bring the drinks over, my darling.” 

It occurred to Jensen at that moment as he felt the heat of Jared’s body leave him that it was unlikely that Jared had been in another person’s home for a good many years. It hadn’t crossed his mind that Jared maybe felt nervous, perhaps even intimidated. Outwardly, as Jensen observed Jared taking a slow stroll around the living room, he didn’t seem to show any signs of being out of his comfort zone. Jared stood in front of the Christmas tree, head cocked in wonder until the view of the oncoming snowstorm tore his gaze away. Jensen watched him as he waited for a pan of milk to boil. Jared was a big man, broad across his shoulders and long in limb. Jensen felt humble whenever he was around him, as if Jared was too good for him. That his pure heart and mind was in danger of corruption. ‘ _I would do anything for you_ ’, a phrase that Jensen had heard dozens of times and was often used so lightly that the meaning seemed to diminish over time. People said it because it was one of those choice phrases couples used, but rarely followed through. Jensen believed that he _would_ do anything for Jared. Without a second thought. 

As Jensen silently crossed the open plan living space in socked feet clutching two steaming hot cups of cocoa, Jared gestured with a smirk at the ridiculous and oversized penis award that sat quite proudly and with little irony on his bookcase. 

“Ah, yes.” Jensen started, setting the cups on the coffee table. He laughed as Jared gestured at Jensen’s nether regions. “No. Not me. I think it’s just a general mold of a random penis. Prepare yourself to be disappointed.” 

Jared laughed, eyes drawn back to the other shiny accolades placed in between Jensen’s pitiful collection of books, one of which Jared slid from the case. He joined Jensen on the couch and made use of the notebook and pen that Jensen had left out for their conversations.

‘ _I could never be disappointed with you_.’ The writing wasn’t the best as Jared used his left hand but it was readable. He laid the book down next to the notebook. Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’.

“Have you read it?” 

Jared nodded.

‘ _It doesn’t seem like your kind of thing_.’ Jared wrote.

“It’s not usually. But I think we should discuss it another day, don’t you?”

Jared nodded and wrapped his working left paw around his mug. The cocoa was burning hot but Jared barely flinched as he took a long, deep gulp from the cup.

“You really are Titanium Man, aren’t you?” Jensen laughed, blowing gently on the surface of his cocoa and gripping the cool handle like a weakling. He laughed again at Jared’s very obvious deep frown. “The nurses were referring to you as ‘Titanium Man’ because you walked away from the accident with so few injuries.”  
Jared laughed, juggled with his cup and grabbed up the pen.

‘ _Of all the metals!_ ’

“I know, I thought precisely the same thing.” 

Jared’s hand was sweaty and too warm when Jensen took it in his own.

“I was thinking, I want you to have my bed-”

Jared interrupted with a meaningful shake of his head.

“No, you have my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Jared gestured at the couch then at himself.

“You’ve just been hit by a car, my darling. I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch.”

Jared held up a finger, placing the notebook on his lap and writing out a fast but wonky reply.

‘ _I can’t take your bed and beside that, I sweat so much when I sleep I wouldn’t want to soak your bed sheets_ ’.

“But you’re okay sweating over a very expensive leather couch instead which is impossible to clean in a washing machine?” Jensen said wryly. 

‘ _Okay, you win_.’ Jared laughed as he wrote, tossing the pen and notebook back onto the coffee table. He sunk back into the couch and pulled a throw over his body.

“Are you tired, my darling?”

Jared yawned as if the mere mention of tiredness had triggered it and then a succession of more which made Jared look like a whacked out bear.

“So, sleep. I’ll be right here whenever you need me.”

Jared reached out and laid a hand against Jensen’s leg, he squeezed his thigh and settled into the couch with so much ease it warmed Jensen’s heart to see Jared so relaxed in his home.

*

Jensen dozed on and off until he woke with a stiff neck and a dead arm. Jared was sprawled across the couch sleeping still and silently. The author covered Jared with a second throw, watched him for a little while then dragged himself up to bed. There was a consistent sinking feeling whenever Jensen had to leave Jared alone, he hated the thought of Jared waking in the morning and not being around to be the first thing Jared would see upon waking. He set his alarm for 6am but didn’t wake until his nose twitched with the smell of coffee at around 10am.

Jensen walked down the stairs, tying the belt of his robe, head dipped listening to Jared shuffling around in the kitchen. The fire was roaring and soft music was playing in the background. The living room was filled with a stark white light, the snow had fallen heavily overnight and was still coming down with enthusiasm. 

“Good morning, my darling.” Jensen said, wandering into the kitchen.

Jared looked up from his one handed coffee making and grinned broadly. He gestured at the two trays laid out on the center island laden with juice, pastries and fresh fruit.

“Wow, you made breakfast. Are you okay? You’re not in any pain?”  
Jared laughed, throwing Jensen an okay sign. He stepped away from the counter and crowded Jensen in such a dominant way that the authors initial reaction was to move out of Jared’s path but only found himself with his back against the fridge. Jared laughed and dug into the pocket of his borrowed sweat pants pulling out a folded note. Jensen blinked up at him, there was only three inches of height between the two men but coupled with Jensen’s constant humble sensibility toward Jared, his wild man of Maine made him feel as if he would be looked after and protected for the rest of his life. 

‘ _Happy Christmas Eve, sweetheart. I made breakfast to thank you for everything you’ve done and because I can’t bear sitting around doing nothing. I hope you slept well, I did. Your couch is very comfortable. Also, you’ve been using the wrong wood for your fire. Ha ha!_ ’

Jensen laughed.

“Ah, I’m not very good at being a country boy yet, I suppose I’m going to have to rely on you for all of those things.”

Jared nodded, his hair was hanging over his face in soft waves and the occasional curl. He smelled more like Jared and less like hospital and his t-shirt was still damp from his sleep-time sweating. Jensen was semi-hard within seconds.

“Thank you for doing this.”

Jared shrugged, pressing a kiss against Jensen’s cheek and leaving no space between them. Jared’s body odor huffed up through the neck of his shirt and hit Jensen’s senses like a Mack truck.

“Jesus.”

Jared threw his good arm in the direction of the living room, gesturing for Jensen to take a seat. Jensen nodded but Jared did not move a muscle which meant the author had to lever himself out from between Jared’s body and the fridge. His cock brushed against Jared’s hip which forced Jensen to pause. He looked up at Jared, huffing out a soft breath.

“I can’t help it when you’re around.” Jensen said as if apologizing for something beyond his control. Jared smiled, moving off only to reveal that he too was dealing with the same predicament. 

Jensen had surprised himself by not being in any way concerned about what he and Jared had ever dying out. Jared was _the one_. They, whoever ‘they’ are, always say that when you meet that special someone, you’ll just know. Jensen had never been hugely cynical, just more practical when it came to matters of the heart. He believed that he simply wasn’t the kind of person others could love and that in turn he was incapable of giving it. Jensen never thought of himself as romantic in any way but Jared had helped him realize that the author had all of that inside him. It was purely a matter of stumbling across the right person. And stumble he had. 

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Jensen said, chin resting on the edge of the couch watching as Jared walked from the kitchen balancing a tray with one hand. Jared shook his head. Jensen sat up and took the tray. “Thank you.”

Meek. That’s how Jared made Jensen feel. It was like being in the company of some otherworldly creature, a mystery to scientists and the common man. Unique and rare, a creature to be protected. Jared joined Jensen on the couch, they drank and ate in silence, both watching the snow come down heavily. Jensen broke the silence.

“I think we’re snowed in.”

Jared grinned, shrugging without a care in the world.

“What a pity.” Jensen said dryly. “We have plenty of food to last us the entire winter.” He laughed.

Jared grabbed the notebook, leaning over his tray to write his reply.

‘ _So much food?_ ’

“Yes, I hadn’t been to a big supermarket for many years. I admit, I got a touch carried away.”

Jared nodded.

“I didn’t know and still don’t know what foods you like.”

‘ _ANYTHING!_ ’ Jared laughed.

“I should have guessed.”

The rest of Christmas Eve was spent grazing on snacks and nibbles and drinking inordinate amounts of coffee. The machine was on constantly during the day, pumping out wafts of all the different blends Jensen had tucked away in his food store. Jensen read from Dracula while Jared laid on his lap in between napping throughout the day. Being with Jared, Jensen felt as if he were on a never-ending spa day. It was the most relaxed he had felt for many years. And as the evening settled in, Jensen told Jared as much while he fiddled idly with his beard and pretty curls.

“I have always been so sure of what I wanted out of my life. At least, I thought so. I lived how I wanted, on my own terms. I suppose most people aspire to live that way. I’ve been so arrogant in my attitudes toward men and relationships, selfish too in many ways. I allowed people into my life, and perhaps not treated them in ways that were right. I don’t think I’ve been a very good person.”  
Jared shook his head.

“It’s different with you, darling. It feels as if you’ve been given to me in some way so I can repent. I don’t deserve you.” Jensen chuckled at his own words.

Jared sat up, wincing briefly as he turned around. He grabbed Jensen’s wrist, turning it to read the time. Three minutes past midnight. It was Christmas Day. Jared pulled his knees up, tucking his feet under Jensen’s thigh. He took a deep breath and cupped one of Jensen’s cheeks with his left hand.

“I _love_ you.” Jared’s voice was shot, hollow and raspy after years of neglect. He inhaled sharply but the romantic moment was stolen from them as Jared coughed, the vibrations of his new found voice catching in his throat. Jared inhaled again, his face flushed red as he tried to hold in a coughing fit.

“Take it easy, darling. I’ll get you some water.” Jensen dashed across to the kitchen, yanking the fridge door open and grabbing the first bottle of water had could lay his hand on. He opened it on the way back to the couch only to hear a distinct fizz as he unscrewed the cap. Sparkling spring water. “Fuck.” Jared was still coughing what sounded like his lungs up while Jensen frantically raided his fridge for still water. A bottle was soon located and thrust into Jared’s hand. 

“Sip it.” Jensen said, one hand gently rubbing circles over Jared’s back. He could feel the scars through the thin cotton which saddened him all the more but concentrated on Jared’s immediate problem. Jensen was finding it nigh on impossible to hold back tears. Jared settled as he sipped on the water, calmly taking in small breaths, his face etched with disappointment. “There. You’re getting there.” 

“Yes.” Jared said, his voice barely a whisper.

“It will come back, you just have to be patient.”

Jared nodded.

“It’s like any muscle you don’t use for a while, it becomes flabby. You just have to get used to using your voice again.”

“Yes.”

“But slowly. You’re not quite ready to talk your ass off just yet. Baby steps.” Jensen smiled, stroking Jared’s bearded cheek. “I love this. Your beard. You look like a young sexy Santa before he got fat and white-haired.”

“Thanks.” Jared laughed, a gentle wheeze of a chuckle. He clutched his ribs, the coughing fit had caused him considerable discomfort. “Pain.” He muttered, reclining slowly against the couch.

“I’ll get you some pills, darling.”

Jensen lifted Jared’s legs onto the couch, fussing as had become the norm for the author before walking back to the kitchen to retrieve Jared’s medication. ‘ _He loves me_ ’, Jensen thought to himself, a little smile dancing around his lips.

Jared took the pills with a mouthful of water and settled back into the comfort of Jensen’s comfortable couch.

“So kind.” Jared wheezed. 

“I wonder why that could be?” Jensen knelt on the floor, tucking a throw around his body.

“Why?”

“Because I love you too.” 

Jared’s face was a contorted mix of happiness and tears as he reached up and slipped a hand around the back of Jensen’s neck.

“I have been in love with you from day one and it’s such a relief to finally say it and more so, hear you say it to me.”

“Same.” Jared said simply.

“Can I kiss you, please?” Jensen leaned in despite lack of permission.

“Yes.”

Jensen took considerable care as he leaned over, lips hovering against Jared’s. This was a moment he wanted to remember and not by writing it all down in a book, he needed this memory to stay within him forever. Jensen pressed his lips tentatively against Jared’s, his beard tickled the author’s lips the moment they touched mouths. Jensen kept the kiss slow, applying the lightest pressure and feeling every divot of Jared’s lips against his own. Their mouths made a soft sound as they parted and then over and over as Jensen pressed dozens of long, firm pecks against Jared’s lips. Jensen’s wild man made a noise, a throaty groan that came up from inside his chest. Jensen felt the fingers settled around the back of his neck tighten and tug, pulling him down so that they could intensify the kiss. Jensen’s stomach swirled, swimming with nerves and adrenaline. His body was on high alert, every square inch of it was crackling with the kind of arousal he’d never even dreamed about. 

Jared grabbed at Jensen’s cropped hair, giving it a gentle coaxing tug. His lips were pinker than usual and had on a lazy, self-satisfied expression.

“Are you okay?” Jensen asked despite there being no obvious signs that Jared was the reverse.

“God, yeah.” Jared rasped. 

“That was quite a lot of pressure.” Jensen smirked, knocking Jared’s nose with the tip of his own before settling back on his knees simply because he got so much out of looking at Jared.

“It was perfect.”

“It was.” Jensen agreed, grinning broadly like a teenager who had just stolen a forbidden kiss.

“Don’t go up-” Jared cleared his throat but his voice still rattled in nothing more than a whisper. “-stairs tonight. Sleep down here with me.”

Jensen turned around to survey the L-shaped couch before nodding with kiss-drunk smile.

“Alright. Head to head.”

“Hm. Yeah.” 

“What’s it like, talking again?”

“Strange. Itchy and as if my throat is made of Jell-O.”

“I’m sure that discomfort will pass, my darling.” Jensen’s hand was still in Jared’s hair, soft waves threading through his fingers.

“I have so much to say to you, Jensen.”

“I know, Jared. And we have all the time in the world.”


	14. Chapter 14

Jensen’s quantity of sleep since he first had Jared under his roof had surprised him. His sleep was dreamless and deep as usual but he slept for so long he felt the very epitome of refreshed as he woke up. For all of Jared’s past traumas and his strange life, he brought with him an air of calm and ease which Jensen absorbed like a sponge. Waking up on his couch holding hands with Jared and tipping his head back to look at him would be something Jensen would never forget. Jared was sound asleep, breathing softly and muttering out little words. Jensen couldn’t make them out but Jared was by no means distressed by what he was saying. Jared had lived for years with nothing but an internal monologue, he had much to say to the world. Beautiful man, laying there still. Chatting away to himself and occasionally smiling too.

“I can feel you watching me.” Jared said deeply, his voice was still ragged and as if it had been cut into pieces but was gradually putting itself back together.

“I don’t care. You’re handsome whatever you’re doing.”

Jared opened one eye, still puffy from sleep. A narrow slit of color, glassy and searching.

“What’s the time?”

“Just a little after nine.” Jensen said, cursing himself for falling asleep with his watch on which felt tight and sweaty around his wrist.

“Okay.” Jared blinked, arched his back into a careful light stretch without causing himself discomfort and smacked his lips. “Kiss?”

“Always.”

Jensen rolled over onto his front, tucking his arms under his chest and kissing Jared soft but deep.

“I want to do that all day.”

“Hm, me too. But first, we should have breakfast and you have to open your presents.”

“Oh. I didn’t get you anything.” Jared said sadly.

“Are you joking?” Jensen smiled. “Jared, you have given me _everything_.”

*

Breakfast was coffee and mountains of scrambled egg which they fed to one another, sharing the coffee out of one cup and kissing in between. Jared was still taking it slow with his talking and ran out of steam several times, mostly out of slight frustration.

“I don’t want to sound like I have a throat full of sand for the rest of my life.” Jared said through a mild coughing fit.

“It’s quite sexy.”

“You’re already biased.” Jared countered. 

“I love you, just the way you are.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Jared winked. The sheer confidence of the man made Jensen weak at the knees.

Jared found the gift of gloves fairly amusing but proved his previous points of not needing nor wanting them by slipping one onto his good hand. It was too small.

“How can they not fit?”

“Big hands.”

“Well, of course. But you’re not King Kong, darling.” Jensen said, perplexed as he examined Jared’s hand with curiosity. “How extraordinary.”

“It’s not a problem, you can keep them for yourself for when you’re outside chopping down the right trees for your log fire.” Jared smirked. Jensen cackled. 

“You’re funny. I didn’t realize that about you. I like it.”

Jared shrugged modestly, slipping back into his silent ways.

“Would you like your other gift?”

“Is it bigger gloves?” Jared chuckled hoarsely as Jensen handed him a large wrapped flat gift.

“No.” Jensen laughed loudly. Jensen rarely laughed as much as he had in the past few seconds. Jared was the tonic to his very being. “Open it.”

Jared ripped the paper from the front of the gift revealing a print of the cover of Jensen’s novel. Further tearing revealed Jensen’s note, written across the glass in black pen.

‘ _This is us, but with a happy ending. Jensen x_ ’

Jared was very quiet and if Jensen was mistaken, very thoughtful too.

“I think I know your novel better than you do.”

“Oh?”

“We’re not them. I’m possibly Danny but you’re not Dash. You realized you loved me and told me too. Dash left it too late. You didn’t.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Jensen said, deflating somewhat.

“I love this though.” Jared nodded. “But we’re us. We’re not characters in a book or fantasies. We’re real and here.”

“What we have has always been like a fantasy to me. Love hasn’t ever figured in my life, at least, not until now.”

Jared set the frame on the floor, leaning it against the coffee table. He turned to Jensen, removing the sling around his arm.

“Should you be doing that?” Jensen clucked, fussing.

“Yes.” Jared tossed the sling on the floor, leaned back casually and patted his lap.

“You’re not serious?” Jensen laughed having not sat on anyone’s lap past the age of eight. “I’m heavy.”

“I can cope.”

“I might hurt your ribs.”

“I’ll live. I’m Titanium Man, remember.” Jared cocked an eyebrow, coughing through his words.

“You are a very new experience for me.” Jensen mumbled, being a good boy and climbing over Jared’s thighs. He hovered momentarily before sitting down. Jared’s hands went to Jensen’s ass in a flash. Two big paws cupping Jensen’s round bottom. The bottom that had been sacred and denied entry to all his entire life. Now, as far as Jensen was concerned, Jared could climb up inside it and pitch a tent.

“Am I?”

“Hm.” Jensen nodded, settling his hands against Jared’s chest, fingers pressing into the muscle. “I don’t-” He sighed, biting into his bottom lip as he thought his next words through with care. “-I thought you were shy.”

“I can be.”

“But I saw you, in the pharmacy that first time and you were nervous and appeared very shy.”

“Is that what you saw?”

“Yes.” Jensen frowned and thought back to the dipped head and the way Jared snatched the bag of medication from the cashier. “I think so?” He wasn’t sure.

“I have lived in this town all of my life. Most people know what kind of life I’ve lived. Older people knew the father well but never intervened, even when he was being thrown out of bars for being drunk and disorderly, knowing that any fight they averted would only get played out once he was home. But that’s another story. My point is-” Jared coughed, an attempt the clear the gravel in his voice away and clutched his ribs. 

“I’ll get you some water.” Jensen said, preparing to dismount but was grabbed by the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Don’t go. I can finish.” Jared smiled away the billion other things he wanted to say to Jensen and continued. “My point is, they were rude to me. They judged me and gossiped behind my back. I’ve never been anti-social or what they thought of as socially inept, my problem was that not a single soul asked me one simple question for as long as I can remember.”

“Which was?” Jensen hadn’t been prepared to speak but took the opportunity with the gap in Jared’s monologue to ask.

“’Are you okay?’” Jared laughed softly. “Not once, all of those people who pride themselves on being a part of such a tight community never once asked me if I was okay.”

“Oh Jared.” Jensen slumped.

“But.” Jared lifted Jensen’s chin with one long finger, rough around tip from hard outdoor work in all weathers. “You did.”

Jensen shrugged modestly.

“I just wanted to know that you were all right. The way the staff treated you in the drugstore didn’t go amiss. You have a beautiful face under all that fuzz, your uniqueness intrigued me.” 

“And now you’ve found out that I’m just a regular guy.” Jared smirked.

“I wouldn’t call you regular, my darling. But you made me feel, not sorry for you, that’s not it because I know you don’t want that from anyone. I suppose you helped me see another side to life, that it’s not all dinner with friends and Grindr hook ups. I saw something pure in you.”

“What’s Grindr?”

“Uh.” Jensen pulled a face. “It’s a dating app for gay men. Do you _really_ not have a phone?”

“I really don’t. Books have been my salvation.”

“Haven’t they just.”

“Books are what saved me. People had let me down constantly. So I turned to books.” Jared smiled.

“I don’t understand how together you are. I know that what you told me of your parents is shocking but I feel as if you’ve not yet told me everything.”

“I haven’t but I will someday. I’m not saying it hasn’t been tough, it has. At times it was terrifying but I strongly believe that people are brought up in one of two ways. Through nature or nurture. I could have wound up like the father, a drunk who talked with his fists and was a bully. But my nature taught me otherwise, it overpowered anything I had been ‘taught’ by my parents. It’s a strong force that _I_ then nurtured by reading. They took everything that is normal away from me but I clung onto books. I’ve read real life stories about people who had been brought up in a similar environment to me, I’ve read self-help books and everything in between because I knew that my life would one day get better and I would be free of her. I needed to be prepared.” Jared paused, cocking his head to one side and taking a raspy breath. “I wasn’t quite prepared for you though.”

“No, I wasn’t quite prepared for you either.” Jensen said thoughtfully. “Do you know something? I’m going to be forty in three months time and I had never been in love before now.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No, it’s not disappointment. It’s surprise, I suppose. Shock too, didn’t think I was capable of it.”

“You told me that. But it turns out that you are. You just hadn’t found the right person.” 

“Hm. You. My wild man of Maine.” Jensen chuckled.

“Is that what you call me?” Jared laughed, heaving Jensen closer despite his bruised ribs.

“Yes."

“That sounds like the perfect name for a novel.”

“I suppose it does.”

“Will you write again? Now that you know you can love and have learned another facet of the human experience?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“But that isn’t the _big_ question I have for you today.” Jared hummed deeply, his breath crackling under the gravel of his voice.

“What is the _big_ question?”

“When are you going to start cooking dinner? Because I am starving.” Jared laughed, Jensen joined him.

“We’ve just had breakfast.” 

“I have a large appetite.” Jared looked at Jensen through narrow eyes, sparkling with lust.

“Do you?”

“Hm.” Jared lead the kiss, cupping Jensen’s face with his too big for gloves hands. His lips were warm and sticky from the coffee they had been sharing. Jensen melted in his arms as he descended happily into a brand new world.

*

Jensen stood at the bottom of the stairs, directing Jared to the bathroom, laughing as his wild man yelled down his amusement at the houses lack of doors.

“It means you can never hide!” Jensen yelled back, laughing to himself as Jared sent back a deep chuckle. 

The ham Jensen had bought for their Christmas day meal was enough to get Jared salivating and declaring he needed a shower before lunch while Jensen fussed around in the kitchen being ‘mother’. He had slipped into the role of domestic God surprisingly well. Jensen had always been a more than competent cook but wasn’t known for being a feeder. Certainly Kevin rarely got to see that side of his boyfriend at the time and was lucky to have even get so much as a cup of coffee poured for him. Jensen would wash Jared with his tongue and cook every meal for him until his dying day without his even thinking about it. Jensen sucked at laundry though, not unlike his unlikely new boyfriend who favored wearing the same clothes day in day out. Towels.

Jensen dashed to the laundry room, remembering that every towel he owned was still sitting in his tumble dryer aside from the one he last used which was probably still damp and hanging over the edge of his bathtub. Jared wouldn’t care, Jensen knew that but he figured that Jared wasn’t used to fancy soft Egyptian cotton bath towels. Jensen wanted Jared to have to the best everything he thought as he gave a fresh warm towel a shake and folded it neatly before going up to the bathroom. The pitter patter of the shower running echoed out into the hallway, steam billowing in its wake. Jensen hovered not wanting to invade Jared’s privacy. He didn’t knock on the wall instead he poked his head around the open door way. Jared was naked, or at least getting there, bending over to slowly untangle his borrowed sweatpants and boxers from around his ankles. Jensen ducked back behind the wall, he had seen Jared’s scars and they were not what he had expected. 

“Uh, I have a clean towel for you, my darling. May I come in?” 

“Um.” Jared fumbled about, Jensen could hear the soft whisper of clothes being moved about. “Sure.”

“That one was mine, from yesterday.” Jensen said nodding at the towel hanging over the edge of the bathtub, holding the clean towel out, offering it to Jared who was naked but for a clutched bundle of boxers over his cock.

“You can look at me, Jensen.” Jared’s voice was not much more than a husky whisper. Jensen lifted his head and smiled fondly. Jared was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

“Trust me, I want to.” Jensen sighed.

“Just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean I’m some unworldly innocent.”

“It’s not that.” Jensen shook his head, quite unable to hold back his emotions.

“Ah. You saw my back.”

“Yes. I’m so sorry.”

“He used cigars and cigarettes.” Jared said casually. The attitude of a man who had embraced acceptance. “Each one is for something I had done to piss him off. Broke a plate, forgot to say thank you, forgot to say grace, spilled a drink. Small things that kids do but that most parents usually just gently remind their children to be more careful or remember to be polite. He wanted to drive the message home by leaving me permanent reminders.”

“But Jared, there are dozens.”

“I was a forgetful, clumsy kid.”

“I’m so sorry.” Jensen dragged a hand over his mouth. 

“Ancient history.” Jared smiled.

“But you’re so beautiful, my darling man.” Jensen cried. “You’re the most incredible human being I have ever met in my life.”

“Well, then. Something went right didn’t it?” Jared smiled. Jensen sobbed. A mixture of heartbreak and anger. Jared dropped his boxers and tugged Jensen hard against his body. Jensen collided against Jared’s solid chest who barely flinched at the pressure against his ribs.

“I’m going to look after you so hard.” Jensen cried. 

“Ditto, sweetheart. Ditto.” Jared tucked his face into Jensen’s hair as two hands searched over his back, lightly pressing into the circular scars which smothered his body from neck to waist. It was the most comforted and accepted that Jared had ever felt in his life. The pair held one another tightly. The fact that Jared was naked hadn’t crossed Jensen’s mind at first, the fact he was being held and comforted flooded his brain.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.” Jared said, muttering the words into Jensen’s thick, soft hair. 

Jensen lifted his head, idly wiping smeared tears from Jared’s bare chest which was thick with hair between two fairly pronounced pectoral muscles and then ran down the center of his body until it mingled with a thick mound of unkempt pubic hair. Jensen inhaled sharply as he followed the line down with the tip of one finger. Jared’s cock was wide and heavy having filled with blood during their clinch. Jensen took one miniscule step back, head still down as he stroked down the length with the back of his finger. Jared was still, apart from the occasional hitch inside his chest which came out as slight twitches. Jensen lifted Jared’s cock, letting it settle in the palm of his hand, quietly examining the shape and the feel of it as it thickened. Jensen could feel it filling out, lightly grasping as if allowing his fingers to be spread apart by its growth. Jared gulped loudly, Jensen shuffled forward resting his forehead against Jared’s chest.

“I like it.” Jensen whispered, still holding and taking in every vein, every pulse. He looked up. Jared’s hair was hanging over his face, casting shadows which barely allowed any light across his face aside from his prismatic eyes which had narrowed again through lust. Jensen licked his lips with avid meaning, casting his eyes downwards, just long enough to make his intentions known. Jared nodded and braced himself against the shower, wrapping his fingers over the top of the glass door.

Jensen dropped to his knees as if falling in front of a vision of Christ, he looked up at Jared whose body had stiffened. The author’s eyes were blinking with curiosity in a silent show of benediction before tucking his arms behind his back and twisting his wrists together as if it knot them away with invisible binding. Jared’s cock lifted violently away from the thigh it had been bobbing against and Jensen caught it with his mouth, lips wrapping around the head. The author felt the meaningful rush of blood as Jared stiffened against his lips and then the warm, wet flood of come overfilling his tongue. It ran in spurts over his chin as Jared gasped loudly, knuckles wrapped white and hard around the shower door edge. Jensen’s mouth went lax, closing his eyes as the slowly cooling fluid dripped from his mouth, pooling in droplets and darkening the fabric of his sweatpants.

Jensen tipped his head back and let out a soft sigh, one hand delving into his pants. Two tugs and he was coming, body falling forward against Jared’s thighs, face pressed against the wild man’s dripping cock. 

“I love you.” Jensen whispered, lips catching against Jared’s still firm cock. “I love you, my darling.” 

Jared pushed the fingers of his cast arm into Jensen’s hair and pressed his face into his groin, roughly grinding his cock over Jensen’s face.

“I love you. I love you, Jensen. You don’t even know.”

Jensen wrapped his arms around Jared’s legs softly breathing in his scent, nose nuzzling deeply into his thick pubic hair. They stayed as they were a while, Jensen in silent prayer, Jared tugging at the author’s hair. The quiet between them continued as Jensen stood up and undressed before leading Jared into the shower where they kissed until they had run out of breath.


	15. Chapter 15

Exhaustion came over Jared like a wave as he was dried off from the shower with care and attention. Jensen persuaded him to nap a while after they had jointly surmised that his bouts of tiredness were due to the accident, his injuries and how he had abruptly found himself free from his mother after thirty-five years of enduring the only life she could offer him. If anyone needed rest.

“The orgasm probably didn’t help either.” Jensen said, tucking Jared into his bed with a wry smile on his face. “All of those chemicals rushing around in your body.” He placed himself on the edge of the bed, fascinated by the reveal of Jared’s receding hairline due to his shower wet hair. Jensen hadn’t seen so much of Jared’s face. The wound on his forehead was small and probably wouldn’t amount to a scar, it didn’t reflect the sheer amount of blood that was caked to Jared’s face when Jensen saw him laying on the road. “How are you feeling?”

“Dazed.” Jared smiled, shoulders rolling into the soft mattress. “Don’t let me sleep for too long.”

“I won’t. I’ll wake you when lunch is ready, my darling.” Jensen left a kiss against Jared’s cheek before leaving him to rest. 

Jensen left Jared with reluctance. It was a new sensation, missing someone who was only a room or two away. He himself needed some time out to think about what was happening. Jensen had been under the impression that his courtship with Jared had originally been likely to last for many months. Weeks of silent exchanges, letters and sweet stolen kisses. Jensen had almost lost him before they had truly started, the immediacy of their relationship hit home as Jensen crossed his living room making a beeline for his cobbled together cocktail bar. Spirits before noon.

“Oh who cares. It’s Christmas.” Jensen needed some time, just a little to take it all in. He poured himself a whiskey and soda, drank it then poured a second. 

Jared could have died. Jared could have been severely injured and then died. But he hadn’t. Jared was laying asleep, curled up in Jensen’s bed. A little broken in so many ways but the man had such a flair for healing. Meek. Jensen still felt meek around him. Feeble and spoiled. Jared hadn’t even begun to relay what he experienced through his terrifying childhood. In many ways, Jensen didn’t want to know. Seeing the scars on his back, the endless cigarette burns that looked like craters smothering his entire back. And yet Jared was the one who made the jokes and the plans for their future. Jared shrugged with nonchalance at the life he has lived, doesn’t complain, doesn’t dwell or slam around in anger believing that life owes him a living. Jared cherishes everything.

Jensen was in love with him. It felt dangerous and frightening, it made him feel fragile. It felt safe and comforting, it made him feel strong. Love, such a contradictory emotion. Jensen could understand why some would want to avoid it. The author threw his eyes upward toward the stairs, he smiled. Love felt fucking marvelous. Jensen laughed and cried a little. Jensen felt alive.

Lunch was eventually slid into the oven just after 2pm, a succulent cut of smoked ham smothered in cloves, honey and juicy slices of orange. Jensen was merry-drunk, warm and conducting Prokofiev’s ‘Troika’ with a knife in between trimming the many vegetables he had purchased a few days before. He hadn’t heard Jared come down, hadn’t noticed him as he slid onto one of the three stools tucked under the island. Jensen hadn’t noticed the affection in Jared’s eyes as he watched the author lose himself in the music which was definitely the reason why Jared was awake. He hadn’t cared, he had missed Jensen, even during his nap. The track finished, it was the last one on the playlist and plunged the house into a deathly silence aside from the low hum coming from the fan in the oven.

“Wonderful.” Jensen sighed, tossing his knife onto the chopping board with the intention of playing the piece of music all over again. The sight of Jared as he turned around made him jump. “Jesus Christ!” Jensen laughed. “How long have you been sitting there?” He slurred.

“Long enough.” Jared grinned. “You’re in a very festive mood.” He coughed.

“I am.” Jensen said, a happy drunk in juxtaposition to his former stuffy self. Jared liked it. “The ham is in the oven, I’m preparing seven hundred and forty two different types of vegetables for roasting. It’s Christmas and you’re here.” Jensen rounded the island as Jared turned slowly on the stool, clamping his thighs around Jensen’s body.

“Are you drunk?” Jared laughed.

“A little tipsy. I still have my wits about me.” Jensen nodded at the glass of water next to the chopping board. “I’m pacing myself. How are you, did you sleep okay?”

“I’m good. I missed you.”

“In your sleep?”

“Yes.” 

Jared could taste the whiskey on Jensen’s lips as they kissed. Jensen could taste sleep on Jared’s tongue. 

“This is it now, Jared. I’m not going to walk away from you.”

“I know. Neither of us are stupid enough to abandon what we have.” Jared smiled. A pause. “It’s terrifying, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Jensen said the word on an exhale, a huge sigh which deflated his body. Jared held him.

“But also, beautiful.”

“Yes. I have so much I want, so much I need to say to you.”

“Me too but let’s just enjoy the day, hm?”

“Okay.” Jensen laughed. “How am I doing? As a boyfriend?”

“Well, since I have no one else to compare you to. Ten out of ten so far.” Jared was entirely amused by Jensen’s tipsy persona. Charmed. 

“Great.” Jensen threw Jared a double thumbs-up. “I should carry on with lunch which is heading toward becoming dinner at the rate I’m going.”

“Can I help?”

“You can prepare the asparagus spears.” 

“Deal.”

*

“I’m staying with you for your ham.” Jared said, stabbing his fork into another thickly cut slice of honey soaked ham. Jensen laughed and had sobered up after having an episode in the bathroom an hour before sitting down to eat; peeing and realizing that Jared had been around drunks all of his life, the last thing he needed was his first ever boyfriend to be staggering around intoxicated during the first ever Christmas Jared had celebrated. Jensen had dashed downstairs and made himself a triple espresso in order to sober himself up. Jared was tougher than his horrible life dictated, Jensen however looked upon the whole thing as a massive faux pas and guzzled his coffee down in one gulp. It worked.

“Sorry lunch is so late.”

“Do you see me complaining?”

“No.”

“Stop apologizing for trivial things, Jensen. I’m not easily offended.” Jared was also an astute sonofabitch. “I’m not made of glass, remember.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the trill sound of a Skype call coming through from Jensen’s open laptop. The author had been introducing Jared to the wonders of the internet while they ate.

“Oh. That’s Vanessa.” Jensen hesitated, setting his fork on the side of his plate.

“Your friend?”

“Hm.” Jensen was keen to look upon his life with Jared as a new start and had felt increasingly ashamed of his past. The last thing he needed was Vanessa tripping up and revealing some of Jensen’s sordid secrets. 

“Answer.”

“It’s a video call.”

“And? She’s probably just calling to wish you a happy Christmas.”

“Yes.” Jensen said stiffly before giving in with the hope that his last conversation with Vanessa had given her enough insight in what she should and shouldn’t say. Jared was just out of shot from the camera and Vanessa looked instantly surprised to find Jensen with company.

“Well hello stranger and mysterious friend.” Vanessa waved. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Van.”

“Are you having a good day?”

“We are.”

“We. Are you going to introduce us or pretend that he’s not there?” Vanessa gave Jensen a wry smile around the rim of her wine glass. Jensen shot a look at Jared, who leaned to one side, grinning as he chewed. “Oh wow. Bear.”

“Van.” Jensen sighed but Jared laughed.

“You must be Jared.”

“I am.” Jared said with his still hoarse voice. 

“Nice to meet you. Wow, Jen. Well done.”

“Van.” Jensen sighed again. He knew his friend well enough to know that she was three sheets to the wind. 

“He’s got Bradley Cooper from ‘A Star is Born’ vibes.”

Jared frowned, clueless to the reference but assumed this Cooper person must be some kind of film star.

“Who’s that?”

“An actor.” Jensen muttered through a tight jaw.

Jared just shrugged but seemed amused by the whole exchange.

“I just wanted to drop in and offer you my seasonal greetings.” Vanessa could see a touch of fear in Jensen’s eyes as the mood morphed into one of tension and not what should have been a joyful exchange of holiday well-wishing.

“Yes, yes. And the same to you too.” 

“Well, I’m gonna go. We’ll catch up later.”

“Sure. Goodbye then.” Jensen nodded, hitting ‘end call’ quicker than was polite..

“That was weird.” Jared said casually. 

“Was it?” Jensen snapped. He hadn’t meant to. The shame of his past which now seemed sordid and dirty in many ways was bubbling inside his chest. Jensen wanted a fresh start with Jared, he didn’t want him to find out about his life before finally falling in love.

“Yeah. You were a bit rude.” 

“Oh God. I know.”

“Did you date her?”

“No. Well, not date.” Jensen slumped back, dragging a hand down Jared’s back who turned around to look at him. “More like friends with benefits.”

“I know what that means, you mention it in your book.”

“Are you shocked?”

“No.” Jared laughed. “Jensen, I know you haven’t lived the life of a monk all these years. It doesn’t matter. Had I been let off my leash to explore the world, I’m sure I’d have quite a few conquests under my belt too. That is what _normal_ people do.”

“Yes, you’re right. Of course you are. I feel like the one who has been shielded from the real world sometimes.”

“I just say what I see.” Jared leaned back and poked Jensen’s Christmas lunch belly with one long finger. “I didn’t know that you’re bisexual.”

“I’m not.” Jensen grinned. 

“Oh. I see.” Jared nodded then wound the same belly poking finger in the air. “Come on, tell me.” He rasped, coughing a little.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you about it. I didn’t think it would ever come up. Our conversations are all over the place.”

“Information is coming out naturally.”

“Again, you are irritatingly spot on as usual.”

“I irritate you?” Jared smirked.

“No, you never could. Oh good God, do you honestly want to know about my past conquests?”

“Not all of them. Whatever you and Vanessa have-”

“Had.” Jensen interrupted.

“Had. Well, it intrigues me. You wrote about an orgy you had which has been now read by millions.”

“Not millions.” Jensen laughed. “A few people _may_ have read it.” He said modestly but then snapped his head to look at Jared. “How did you know that was real life?”

“How can I _not_ know? It was kind of obvious.” Jared shrugged. 

“I feel ashamed.”

“Why? You had fun. You were safe?”

“Hm, yes.” Jensen nodded. “I was safe and it was fun at the time but now the experience is nothing more than just words in a book.”

“Stop prevaricating. Vanessa.” Jared reminded him.

“All right. If I must. Okay, I like. No, I used to like wallowing in the good things. I have expensive taste, I have high standards in all aspects of my life and I tended to move onto the next thrill and then the next because nothing seemed to last. However-” Jensen smirked. “-I loved living through my teen years. The eye-opening sexual awakenings. They were so pure and visceral. Unapologetic. New. I’m not what you would call a kinky person. I don’t go in for sex toy frippery or twisted kinks but for many years, Vanessa had helped me-” He paused. “-helped me? Perhaps helped is the wrong word but she assisted-”

“Same meaning.” Jared snorted.

“Stop it.” Jensen laughed and grabbed up one of Jared’s hands. “Whatever we’re calling it, I had a regression kink whereby we would role play a fresh faced high school couple in the first throes of romance and sexual exploration.”

“Interesting.”

“I basically fondled her-” Jensen motioned around his chest with one hand.

“Breasts.” Jared was wheezing with laughter. “Why are you drip feeding this information to me? I’m not a Catholic priest listening to some weird confession. And, I know what breasts are.”

“I’m shy.” Jensen said, kidding of course.

“Right. So, what happened after you fondled her ‘breasts’?” Jared mouthed the last word, teasing Jensen’s PG-13 depiction of just one facet of his previous sex life.

“She sucked me off.”

“Oh wow. You big brave boy using the big brave boy words.”

“You didn’t come across as _this_ sarcastic in your letters.” Jensen cocked a wry eyebrow, enjoying Jared’s personality as every moment went by.

“I was saving it.”

“Like your virginity.” Jensen was quick, so quick that the words hadn’t fully registered at first. 

Jared’s eyes flew open along with his mouth which formed a perfect shocked ‘O’ shape. He laughed.

“Oh, that was risky.” Jared cracked up, nodding with appreciation at Jensen’s joke. The author himself was still vaguely mortified by what he viewed as his second faux pas of the day.

“Shit.” Jensen cupped his hands over his mouth and chin while Jared continued to chuckle like Mutley from the Wacky Races. 

“I haven’t laughed like this for a very long time.”

“Jesus, Jared. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay, I’m not offended. More impressed by the sheer speed of your retort. Oh and _I_ came over you earlier.” Jared snorted.  
Jensen laughed and leaned forward, resting his head against Jared’s shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jensen. And thank you.”

“For what?” Jensen looked up at Jared through two huge watery green eyes.

“For treating me like a human being.”

“You’re my man, why wouldn’t I.” Jensen smiled.

“Oh and we are going to live out your fantasy or regression kink thingy how it was _really_ meant to go.”

“Oh?”

“Hm. I never went to high school. I want to know what fondling the hottest boy in school is like.”

“Oh.” 

“I wish my ribs would hurry and heal, I want to make love to you so hard.”

Jared was turning Jensen into a meek little version of himself again. Almost. 

“Oh, my darling. I uh, I top.” Jensen sighed as if the conversation was over, his former self hadn’t been completely eradicated. 

“Do you?” Jared was well-versed in the hierarchy of gay sex placement. Jensen had taught him. Unwittingly, in his book. From what Jared could gather, as much as he could identify on a psychological level with Danny; the books romantic but tragic hero. Dash was the character Jared felt he was more like on a physical and sexual plane. ‘The Titanium Heart’ had lead Jared to believe that were a sexual relationship or at the very least a brief tryst were to happen to him, he would naturally be the one to top. 

Sexual stalemate had reared its head.

“Hm, I always have.”

“Always?”

“Yes. Why would I lie?”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Unless you are.” Jared blinked, head slowly cocking from side to side. Foiled again.

“Once then.” Jensen laughed.

“Your first time?”

“Yes.” Jensen frowned. “How are you doing this?”

“You’re not good at lying. It’s written all over your face.”

“But what makes you so sure you top?”

“What makes you so sure you’re only a top?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“Just did.”

“Wow.” Jensen chuckled deeply, leaning forward to grab his glass of wine. The author had managed to work his way through two thirds of a bottle of red since Jared was on water due his medication. The sheer amount of food Jensen had prepared and subsequently eaten had prevented the alcohol from going to his head. “Answer my question first.” 

“I read your book. I saw so much of myself in Danny. But sexually, I felt as if Dash was more me. When I’ve thought about sex, it’s always me as the top.”

“I see.” Jensen nodded thoughtfully then sighed, holding a hand up as if being held at gun point. “Fine, fine! Since I’ve known you, whenever I’ve fantasized about our having sex-” Jensen paused, mostly for dramatic effect. Jared smirked at him. “-you’ve been the one fucking me.”

“Jesus.” Jared had not been expecting such a revelation.

“I don’t know why. I distinctly make it clear to people. Well, to men that I am not a sub.”

“Eh?” Jared laughed, then winced as pain surged around his ribcage. “I don’t understand how that makes you submissive.”

“It just does.” Jensen chuckled. “You make me feel like that thought. You make me feel like I want to give you everything.”

“That’s not submission. That’s love.” 

Jensen sighed softly, pawing at Jared’s body.

“I want to.”

“I’m in too much discomfort, Jensen. I want my first time and our first time together to be perfect.”

“I know, my darling.”

“Soon?”

“Soon.”

*

Jensen had persuaded Jared to finally share his bed. The author hadn’t slept with a man for many years, never in a romantic way and only after a hook-up. For Jared, sleeping on his back was preferable in his current state but was still willing to have Jensen close, lifting his one working arm and inviting him in for a cuddle which Jensen sunk into like the affection starved man he was. Jared felt incredibly comfortable to lie with and Jensen was more than prepared to wake up slick with sweat and kiss away Jared’s morning breath. Their love was the rawest and most real that two people could share. There were no boundaries between them and no subject was taboo even if Jensen had been treating Jared as if he were born yesterday. But even that was a thing of the past as they talked quietly in the pitch dark of Jensen’s bedroom.

“I had an idea today.” Jensen whispered.

“Go on.”

“With your permission, of course. I’d like to write your story.”

“My story, what story?” Jared turned to look down at Jensen, his eyes had become used to the darkness of the room and could just see the faint outline of his face.

“Your life story.” 

“Why would anyone want to read about me?”

“I think many people would relate to you and it might be kind of cathartic for you to talk about.”

Jared went very quiet. Another faux pas. Why do things invariably come in threes? And why are they always bad things?

“Would you want to record my talking about it or take notes as I speak?”

“Um, I would probably take notes.” Jensen sat up on his elbow, he too only seeing a shadow of a face in the darkness. “Jared, I’m not trying to profit from your woes. I think I should clarify that.”

“I know. And I do think it would be cathartic. I don’t feel as damaged as perhaps I should be. That’s a good thing but I’ve never told anyone about my life and I’d trust you to help me tell the truth about it all.”

“It would be a collaboration of course.”

“It would have to be.” Jared chuckled lightly, the bed shook a little and Jensen settled back down into the warmth of Jared’s body. The room dipped into silence until Jensen broke it by sharing a thought he had long had about Jared.

“You should be doing great things.” Jensen couldn’t hide the sigh that came out with his words.

“I’ve survived. I think that’s pretty great.”


	16. Chapter 16

The dawn sun was poking through the heavy snow clouds and casting a soft golden light throughout the house as Jensen crept around silently, slowly living out his morning routine while Jared slept on. Jared hadn’t lied when he had told Jensen just how much he perspired during sleep, the author was furnace hot and sticky as he cleared up the dinner plates and leftovers from the night before. Naked dishwasher loading. He changed the overused filter in his coffee machine, replacing it with a new one and filling it with the blend that Jared had preferred. So unselfish these days was Jensen. He hadn’t cared much for the Moroccan Monsoon Malabar they’d had after lunch but Jared had been guzzling it down, so naturally it was Jensen’s choice for their morning kick start. He made two bowls of fruit salad, placing them back into the fridge to chill and set out three different kinds of Swiss muesli on the coffee table in the living room. 

“I must buy a dining table, we can’t eat like savages on the couch every day.” Jensen muttered to himself, breaking the early morning silence. He grabbed up his phone while he waited for the coffee to brew. An email. An email from ‘Forest Waters Hospice’ containing information regarding Mrs. Padalecki and an endless PDF attachment with further documentation and a whacking huge bill. She had been there for only three days. Further down and nestled in the huge rambling body of text was a request.

‘ _Mrs. Padalecki has been increasingly distressed and wishes to see her son. If he can find it in himself to visit her, our visiting hours are 9am – 11am and then 2pm to 5pm. Please call ahead to arrange a time_.’

The email was a touch rude considering that she had been moved to a place offering superior care because her son had been hit by a speeding car. Jensen was not entirely in the mood for breaking the news to Jared which was perhaps selfish since he knew Jared took so much in his stride. Jensen believed Mrs. Padalecki had had her chance with her son and blown it spectacularly. Can you forgive a person or make peace with them at the end of their life, even when they had stolen yours and made what little they had left behind a living hell? It wasn’t Jensen’s question to answer. He would support Jared in whatever he chose. That was what Jensen did now. He cared, he loved, he supported.

“You’re naked.” Jensen blinked, turning around as he heard Jared’s footsteps on the stairs.

“So are you.”

“Very hot.”

“Same.” Jared grinned.

“Very sexy.” Jensen grinned back with admiration.

“Battered.”

“You’re healing. Did you sleep well aside from feeling too hot?” 

“I did. Your bed is very comfortable and I could have gone back to sleep.” Jared hesitated, disinclined to place his bare sweaty ass on the couch. Jensen waved a ‘don’t worry about it’ hand in the air. Jared kissed him the moment he sat down.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Missed you.” 

“I’m an early riser.”

“I am too usually.” Jared said, leaning forward to inspect the waiting dishes of muesli. “I used to feed that to my chickens.” He smirked.

“Funny. It happens to be very expensive muesli. You used to keep chickens?”

“Hm. I had a few when I was a teen until they mysteriously vanished one by one over the course of a few weeks. Turned out that I had unwittingly eaten them for dinner.”

“What?” Jensen blinked in utter disbelief.

“Yeah, my mom slaughtered them all and fed them to me.”

“Okay, firstly. How can you say that so casually?”

“Because it was something that happened twenty years ago. Trust me, I wasn’t anywhere near as casual about it when I found out about it at the time.”

“Jesus Christ!” Jensen was shocked and seething. “Fuck. Fuck it. Look, I got an email from the hospice your mother is in. She wants to see you. She’s distressed.”

“Right.”

“So?”

“I don’t know.” Jared sighed, leaning back and dragging his hands over his hair which he pinned back as if wearing a headband. Jensen was momentarily diverted but was able to tear his mind back to the more pressing matter. “I have mixed feelings about her. She looked after me, in her own way when the father was at his worst. But she was never that kind to me, even when she was trying to be. I don’t dwell, as you know and I haven’t forgiven her for so many things and in the grand scheme of life, I haven’t come away terribly damaged.”

“No?”

“No, I haven’t become a version of her or him. I haven’t turned to alcohol or drugs or had to deal with huge bouts of depression. I’m lucky that my resolve has seen me through this. I should forgive her. She’s dying. But I can’t. I hate her.”

“Most people would feel the same.”

“I guess.” Jared nodded, he turned his head to look at Jensen. “Would you come with me to say goodbye to her?”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Do you think it’s wrong of me not to forgive her?”

“Not at all. Jared, as much as she was a victim too, she did nothing to try and remove you from the situation.”

“I know.” Jared nodded. “The father wasn’t even around a huge amount. We could have packed up and left any time. They were obsessed with one another and I was the inconvenience they had to deal with.” Jared went quiet again before throwing his hands up in the air. “I need to leave all that behind now. I can’t-” He cried.

“Oh God please, don’t cry my darling.” 

Jared wrapped himself around Jensen like a clamp and sobbed his heart out; Jensen’s broke into a million pieces as he stroked and petted and pressed firm kisses into Jared’s hair. Physical gestures in place of begging Jared to stop. The noises he made were ones of heartbreak, despair and relief as if the notion of his saying goodbye to his mother was the real beginning to a brand new life.

“We will go today and then it will be over. For good.” Jensen whispered the words into Jared’s hair.

*

“Um. Try these.” Jensen was perched on the edge of his unmade bed, tossing various pairs of pants in Jared’s general direction as they attempted to find something suitable for him to wear out. The sweatpants had been sufficient for leaving hospital in and for lounging around the house but not much else.

“They’re very narrow.” Jared held the skinny jeans up, dressed only in a pair of Jensen’s fancy boxers.

“But they’ve always been too long for me. Try them.”

“Don’t they just smash everything up?” Jared mused.

“A little but it’s more snug than smashed. Do you have more clothes at the cottage?”

“Yeah but I want to go there after we see her.”

“Jared?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to live with me?”

“Yes.” Jared grinned, answering without hesitation or thought.

“All right then.” Jensen grinned back and felt an uncharacteristic blush warm his cheeks. “It’s all happening very fast isn’t it?”

“Yes. I don’t mind though. I like it. I’m not worried.”

“I’m not worried either. It’s easy being around you.” Jensen smiled before throwing Jared a face. “I can see _everything_.” He laughed and gestured at Jared’s general groin area. Jared laughed.

“Perhaps a longer shirt? These are the only pants you have that are long enough.” 

“I’m sure I have something.”

*

Jared wouldn’t allow Jensen to stop him from helping to clear the path of snow. They hadn’t argued about it, or even used any cross words. Jensen had just learned that Jared is stubborn that morning. And in all honesty, Jared was strong and determined and cleared the snow much faster and with more efficiency than Jensen ever could. Weak and feeble, that’s what Jensen was.

“You’re going to have to teach me the ways of country living.” Jensen said on the drive to the hospice, the sun had punched a hole through the clouds and the snow had stopped falling clearing the road for a safer drive. “It hadn’t occurred to me that I was going to need to put muscle behind it.”

“Probably why the architect who designed the place couldn’t handle living there. I like your house.”

“Our house.” Jensen corrected smugly.

“Our house.” Jared grinned.

“Even over your cute little cottage?”

“You mean the house of horrors by the sea. Yes, I do.”

“What are you going to do with it now?”

“I don’t know. Clear it out, sell it maybe? Transform it into a going concern? No idea. Aside from the view, which you have. And perhaps my little library, I won’t miss it.”

“You could earn a wage from renting it out.”

“I could. We’ll see.” Jared inhaled sharply, tucking an arm against his ribs.

“Pain?”   
“A little. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“My Titanium Man.” Jensen mused, smiling at Jared with complete and utter affection.

Jared went through long spells of silence and reflection during the drive. Jensen played music, just loud enough to be heard to inject a little soothing noise into the car. He knew that Jared would speak to his mother for the first time in twenty years and that the meeting would be the last time he would see her. It was a huge undertaking and as much as Jared was tough and brimming with resolve and positivity for the future, Jensen could not begin to imagine what his wild man was going through. Jared had been honest with Jensen from day one but the author supposed that people kept some things back, that deepest darkest feelings were not always shared in their entirety. Jensen remained quiet, but there. 

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” Jensen said, pulling into the parking lot of Forest Waters with it’s manicured lawns and pretty gardens. 

“She won’t appreciate it.”

“No.” Jensen said tightly since every answer or comment to come from Jared’s mouth for the past ten minutes was drenched with negativity which was jarring and worrying. Jensen was still there.

The foyer was decorated for the holiday season with a small potted Christmas tree covered in paper stars which had names written on them reminding Jensen that this was the place people came to at the end of their lives. Ironic then that Jared should be visiting the place at the beginning of his. The pair signed in at reception and were lead through what felt like unending corridors by a nurse who was quiet and kind and looked like she had selflessly spent her own Christmas in Forest Waters. Why were so many people coming into Jensen’s life only to humble him? He felt like Ebenezer Scrooge. But he was working on that.

Jared didn’t ask the nurse how his mother was doing, or if she was comfortable. And the nurse in turn didn’t bombard Jared with information, just offering a kind demeanor and that knowing look of ‘I’m here if you need me’. Mrs. Padalecki was not what Jensen had imagined when they walked into the well-lit but simple single room. She was small and as feeble look as Jensen often felt. 

“Oh, it’s you.” Mrs. Padalecki shot Jared a look that Jensen was sure he was used to seeing from the comfort of her bed. “Took you long enough.” She glanced at Jensen, immediately displeased with what she saw. “I asked only for female nurses, get him out. I don’t want male nurses.”

Jared moved to the end of the bed and Jensen wondered how such a big strong man could have been overpowered by such a small, useless looking woman. He hadn’t’, not really. Jared had looked after her and towed her line for all those years because the man was a living saint. Jensen clenched his fists and attempted to tie his tongue into a knot. It wasn’t his place to speak.

“I’ve come to say goodbye.” Jared’s voice was still raspy but the sound of it made Mrs. Padalecki flinch, Jensen noted a flicker of amusement twitch around Jared’s lips.

“Now it speaks.” Mrs. Padalecki spat. Jensen could see the hate as saliva sparked through her teeth.

“I finally found cause to.” Jared said casually, throwing his eyes in Jensen’s direction. “Jensen isn’t a nurse, he’s my boyfriend.”

Jensen inwardly punched the air and brimmed over with pride. Not for being ‘the boyfriend’ but for watching Jared square up to his maker. 

“Oh, I always knew there was something funny about you, boy.”

“Are they looking after you well?” Jared smiled, moving to the window and adjusting his sling. Jensen had suggested he wear it for the car journey. “The gardens are nice, despite the snow.”

“They fuss.” Mrs. Padalecki glanced at Jensen who in turn glowered at her. He knew her all of her secrets and she knew that he was now well informed. She tore her eyes away. Jensen saw shame.

“They care.” Jared said softly.

“They’re paid to.” Mrs. Padalecki countered.

“I just thought, we could part on better terms.” Jared looked away from the window and back at his mother. He was smiling and Jensen thought that it was bravest and most noble thing he had ever witnessed. He fought back tears.

“It’s too late for all that now.”

“That’s a pity.” Jared nodded slowly. “I hope that, in your final days, you’ll be able to make some kind of peace with yourself, mom. Don’t leave this world shrouded in bitterness. Leave it how it was when you first entered it. Pure and unburdened.”

Jensen stepped back into the shadows of the corner of the room. His presence felt suddenly intrusive and he could not hold back his tears, crying silently as he watched Jared with his head held high and giving into forgiveness.

“I just wanted you to know that you didn’t ruin my life and that I’ve found love and that I’m happy.” 

“With a man?”

“Yes, with a man. A man who loves me for who I am. Scars and all.”

Jensen was biting into his bottom lip to stop from making a sound as he cried. Mrs. Padalecki squinted in his direction as if to work out who it was who could have possibly undone all _she_ had done in an effort to make her sons life as miserable as hers was.

“Whatever he’s told you, it isn’t as bad as he says. Times were tough.”

“Your husband was on his way to being as rich as Croesus if hadn’t had drunk his way into an early grave. Times were tough because of him and you.” Jared said in a low, matter-of-fact tone.

“He was your father.” Mrs. Padalecki spat again, lively for a woman so close to death.

“He was a sperm donor.” Jared blinked slowly. “But I’ve not come here to fight, or argue or blame you. What’s done is done. And from where I’m standing, things are going to turn out well for me. And I have you to thank for that because I am strong. You made me strong.”

Mrs. Padalecki showed no emotion, turning her head into her pillow and staring into the empty space beside her.

“You should go now.”

“I think so too.”

Jared nodded, rounding the bed and walking straight up to Jensen who took his hand and kissed it hard.

“Ready?” Jensen whispered, throwing his eyes at the door which they both exited without saying another word.

*

Mrs. Padalecki died twelve hours after her son walked out of her room. 

*

_Three weeks later_

Jared had wanted to go straight home after his final meeting with his mother and so his and Jensen’s visiting Bay Cottage was postponed until after Mrs. Padalecki’s funeral. It was a far cry from Jensen’s own mothers funeral which had been an oddly joyful occasion. The church had been rammed with family and friends and her wake was more like a low key party than a gathering of people there to grieve. Jared and Jensen had been the only two people in attendance in the small chapel just outside Everfall. There was no wake.

Jensen knew that Jared had been putting off going back to Bay cottage for many days. But the reason why surprised him as they finally pulled up by the snow covered steps that lead down to the property. Jared was back to full strength as he unloaded a snow shovel from the back of Jensen’s jeep, stalling somewhat.

“I know it must be painful for you to go back there after being away for a while.” Jensen said from the other side of the jeep, grabbing a stack of flat-packed cardboard boxes.

“It’s not that.” 

“Oh. Then what?”

“I’m ashamed.” Jared sighed, jabbing the shovel in the ground.

“I see.”

“You live in such a fancy home.”

“I haven’t always. Jared, I don’t care and you usually don’t either. We need to do this, my darling. We’ll just grab your things and go home. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jared nodded. “I’ll clear the steps.”

It took a while, clearing each step at a time which hadn’t been maintained all that well and there was no railing to hold onto as Jensen slowly followed Jared down. The afternoon air was clear and crisp and Jensen could just about see Jared’s tidy little fishing boat bobbing about in the water.

“Can we sail that around to the house and park it by the cliff?”

“Moor.” Jared roared with laughter. “You moor a boat, you don’t park it. But yes, we can do that at the weekend if you like.”

“I’d love to.” Jensen grinned, amused further by Jared’s teasing and the fact that he himself hadn’t taken offence.

“I’ll have to fix some kind of ladder to the land to hang over the cliff face. You’re higher up than I am here.”

“I wish you’d start referring to Whitby as home.”

“I forget because I can’t believe it’s true.” Jared chuckled, letting himself into the cottage with Jensen close behind him. The smell hit them both, a mixture of four weeks worth of dust, old food and stale urine. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Jared said, turning around and crashing into Jensen’s body.

“It’s alright.” Jensen rubbed Jared’s back and both of them tucked their noses into the necks of their scarves. Jared had borrowed his pale blue wool scarf from Jensen and he was thankful that it smelled of Jensen’s faded cologne. “It’s her room.”

“It’s okay, darling. We’ll open some windows and let some air in. Where’s your room?”

“Up in the attic. I’ll pop open the windows, just stay there.” Jared held a hand in front of Jensen’s body which meant ‘please fucking stay there’. Jensen complied. 

The cottage seemed smaller now that Jensen was inside. Small and dark, sparsely furnished with threadbare arm chairs and couches. It was tidy simply because there were so few items for it to be anything else but. Jensen imagined a small Jared, running from his father from room to room, frightened and alone. The cottage felt as if the echoes of Jared’s former life were fading away and soon would be a property that Jared could use to earn a living. That thought alone dragged Jensen’s mind away from the melancholy atmosphere, as did the reappearance of Jared.

“Would you like to see my bedroom? I’m not ashamed of it.”

“I would love to.” Jensen smiled, cupping Jared’s face.   
Jared looked bigger than usual as he lead Jensen up two very narrow flights of stairs, which creaked under both of their weights. Jensen ran his hand over the bare walls where pictures had once hung, he couldn’t imagine what kind of photographs the Padalecki family would have had on their walls, which prompted Jensen ask Jared if any even existed.

“Do you have any photographs of you when you little?”

“Yes.” Jared nodded. “I have a box of keepsakes with little tokens and such in it. I’ll show you.”

“I would be honored.”

“You always say that when I share my past with you.”

“It’s because it’s true, my darling.” Jensen followed Jared into his room which was quite a contrast to the gloom and emptiness of the downstairs space. It was immaculately tidy and homely. His small but comfortable bed was made, next to it an old mahogany nightstand was heaving with books and a half drunk glass of water filled with air bubbles. “This is a very cozy space.” Jensen smiled, genuinely charmed as he sat on the edge of Jared’s bed, switching on his bedside lamp. “I love this nightstand. You should definitely bring it back to the house, it looks vintage.”

“I will.” Jared grinned, placing himself next to Jensen clutching an old salt cracker tin.

“Is that your box of delights?” 

“Yeah, take a look.” Jared snapped the tin box open, handing it to Jensen who recognized his letters straight away, all wrapped up in pale blue fishing line. 

“A special place indeed.” Jensen smiled. “Are you sure you don’t mind me looking through this?”

“Not one bit. You’re writing my story, you need to get to know me better.”

“I do. You’re right.” Jensen set the letters on the bed with care and delved back into the tin. “The manual for your game.” He grinned. “Where is that?”

“I think I lost it during the accident.”

“Oh Jared, no. I’m so sorry, my darling.”

“It’s all right. These things happen. I still have the manual to remind me.”

“You’re an incredible man.” Jensen said with a soft shake of his head. “A hero. Oh, look at you. Is this you?”

“Yeah.” Jared nodded. “It was taken at my aunts house.”

“You look very happy. I love the red overalls.” Jensen chuckled softly.

“I was. So happy.”

Jensen glanced at Jared as he realized the tin was now empty.

“Oh no, that’s not all there is?”

“One photograph of me looking happy and without a care in the world is better than dozens of me not.” 

“I suppose it is.” Jensen nodded, worrying his bottom lip as he transported himself to his childhood home where his father still lived and all the many framed photograph’s which sat on tables and hung on the walls. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay with it, Jensen.”

“I know you are. We should frame this and put up along with one of my childhood photograph’s.”

“I would love that.”

Jensen placed the few items with care back into the tin while Jared placed the lid back on. While Jared was in a much better place than he had ever been, he knew Jensen was struggling with the slow drip-feed of information and revelations regarding Jared’s life and in some respects hearing himself speak and explain his world to another person was often exhausting. But Jensen had been right when he said that discussing it would be cathartic and since the author was more than happy to share the weight of Jared’s world, then Jared was more than relieved to finally tell someone who not only listened but seemed to say the right things too. Jared, like Jensen believed that therapy sessions with a doctor would be pointless. Together they were both learning and that gave Jared the comfort he needed to move on.  
The pair packed Jared’s few belongings into the freshly taped up boxes they had brought with them. Jared had very little that he could call his own but took great care in handling and packing away every item, even his small collection of clothes which were throwbacks to a long time ago, old, frayed and too small were taken from their hangers and folded neatly. Jensen followed his lead. 

“I miss you wearing your long coat.” Jensen smiled, folding a small denim jacket which looked as if it hadn’t fitted Jared for many years but clearly held some form of sentimentality with him.

“Me too. I loved that coat. It was so warm and had such deep pockets.”

“Where did it come from?”

“The thrift store in town. It was a genuine World War Two military coat.”

“Wow, they were made of wool. No wonder it was so warm. It suited you. Kind of made you look a little intimidating. Sexy too.”

“Oh yeah?” Jared beamed at Jensen from the other side of the room. “Jen?”

“Yes?” Jensen grinned back, Jared hadn’t referred to him as Jensen before. He liked it.

“I think tonight is going to be our night.” Jared said casually, fluffing and folding.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure. I want us to make love tonight.”

“Well, I was not expecting to hear that today.” Jensen exhaled deeply. “I feel a little nervous.”

“Really?” Jared said flatly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Careful, otherwise I’ll change the title of the book to ‘The Arrogant Virgin’.” Jensen laughed.

“I prefer your first choice; ‘The Wild Man of Maine’ but you can use the other one for the sequel.” Jared winked.


	17. Chapter 17

Thoughts about sex hadn’t been in the forefront of either of their minds for many weeks. Jared had slipped into a daze since his mother had passed on, he was never miserable, quite the reverse but would often stay up long after Jensen had turned in for the night to spend a little time on his own. Often he would read until he fell asleep on the couch in the early hours, the internet kept him awake until dawn on numerous occasions in a vein attempt to catch up on the world but mostly he would think and process the abrupt change in the life he had been living for so many years. The switch and lack of his usual routine was slowly accepted. He missed his boat, he missed spending hours out on the ocean and he missed his pokey attic bedroom. Jensen stepped back and became a shadow of support waiting in the wings. He allowed Jared to his own thing, to talk when he wanted to talk, to sleep when he needed to. Despite all of that, Jared was a pleasure to have around. 

And Jensen found that the initial rush of arousal he had felt around Jared in their early days, had not faded away but more so been left on the back-burner to simmer. Love and consideration had taken its place, Jensen found it refreshing being around and having the company of a man he obviously desired but ultimately cared for and loved more than anything. They had kissed and cuddled and once or twice situations became heated but they never went any further because the both of them knew that it wasn’t the right time. Jensen had always been in such a rush to get a thrill, he had lived a life of instant gratification, ‘dial-a-dick’ hook ups and an all-you-can-eat buffet of men on tap. Jared was different, Jensen had already placed him up high on a pedestal because he was the only human being the author deemed worthy. In the media, actresses are referred to as icons, sportsmen are thought of as heroes but the real heroes and icons of the earth are the little people. The ordinary people. The people no one knows, who struggle on in day to day life in their own modest, quiet ways. Jared was a hero and more than anything, a good, decent man.

*

The drifting snow had blocked the entrance to Jared’s shed and treasures within it. They were losing daylight as they had spent a longer time in the cottage than first intended. Jared wasn’t inclined to start shifting piles of snow, Jensen wasn’t thrilled about the idea either even if he was disappointed that he couldn’t go inside. 

“I am so desperate to see your library, you always describe it so vividly when you talk about it. As if it’s some otherworldly place, like a fairyland.”

“It is really. Another world. But we’ll come back in a day or two.” 

“It makes me feel sad to think that you’re going to leave it behind.” Jensen said, loading the last of the boxes into the back of the jeep.

“I’ll be bringing the library with me once we’ve cleared it. I’ll only be leaving a hole in the ground behind. We can merge our collections and build a new one.” Jared smiled.

“You seem better today.” Jensen couldn’t hide a soft sigh of relief as he spoke.

“I am. I think that’s what I’ve been struggling with. There was no way that I was ever going to be that person you first met again. It was like I was high, not that I know what that feels like, when I first came to yours. But since she went, it’s taken me quite some time to come to terms with the fact that _everything_ has changed. It’s good change, it’s wonderful change and I’m getting there. But today, today I feel very happy. And extremely lucky that I met you. You’ve changed my life Jensen, and I am struggling with how I can ever repay you.”

“Love me. And let me love you back. There’s no bill to settle as far as you and I are concerned, my darling. It’s all free, no hidden costs.” Jensen grinned. “Now, are we going home because I’m hungry and cold.”

“We are. We’re going home.” Jared glanced down at Bay Cottage, he nodded. “Yes, we’re going home.”

*

The boxes containing Jared’s life were piled up in the living room of the glass house and since Jared expressed his interest in consummating their relationship, neither were inclined to even begin to think about unpacking and finding homes for everything. They grinned at one another during the drive home, held hands and bit lips because _now_ they were thinking about sex and there was no going back. Jensen stopped Jared from taking a shower, grabbing his cast free wrist and tugging him away from the bottom of the stairs.

“Don’t, I want you exactly as you are.”

“But I stink.”

“I don’t care. If you’re going upstairs, go into the bedroom, not the bathroom.”

“All right.” Jared curled his wrist from out of Jensen’s hold and took his hand, leading him silently up to the bedroom, both in socked feet. Jensen had butterflies. He hadn’t experienced butterflies since his dreamy and very beautiful elementary-school teacher, Mrs. Klein touched his hand to comfort him after falling over in the halls. These butterflies though were gargantuan, Jensen savored every moment. This was never going to go into a book because he knew that once they were laying in bed together, sweaty and spent that they would do it all over again. And again. And again and that each time would feel exactly like the first. A bold assumption but then Jared wasn’t an ordinary man, he was _everything_ and more to Jensen. He was his icon, his hero, his love.

There had been no further discussions about who goes where as far was sex was concerned, Jensen resolved to just let the situation play out naturally, Jared had done much the same. They each chose a side of the bed, neither had their own side. Getting into bed at the end of the day had become a free-for-all, they shared the bed, and shared the sides too. They undressed, keeping the speed and intent quite casual. They had seen one another naked dozens of times but it had only ever lead to shared showers, sleep or kissy cuddles. Jensen had enjoyed savoring it all, the anticipation of one day being able to make love to Jared was considerably more exciting than any sexual encounter he had ever had. His thoughts had been saturated with pure love for the man. It was terrifying and beautiful.

“Hello.” Jensen was under the bed sheets which he had lifted over their heads. The underfloor heating hadn’t been switched on because of their excursion to Bay Cottage. There was a chill in the air which was soon resolved by Jared’s furnace hot body heat. The sheets were pulled back down the moment Jared’s chest pressed against Jensen’s.

“Hello yourself.”

Jensen pushed Jared’s hair back with one hand, holding it back against his scalp and then hooked a leg around Jared’s hip, pulling him closer. Jared’s beard had been trimmed but was still thick and bushy, however there was still so much face on display for Jensen to savor.

“Beautiful man.” Jensen kissed Jared softly, lips brushing over his narrow pink lips, still a little cool from being outside. Kissing had been mastered by the pair as a couple and Jensen soon discovered that it was one of favorite things. He had always enjoyed it but love brought with it a different sensation all together. Jared smelled divine, a days worth of sweat and grime was clinging to his body along with the vague scent of soap from his morning shower. His grubby, soon to be removed wrist cast grazed over Jensen’s hip and rubbed against his bottom which felt cold in contrast to Jared’s big warm hands. Sex was a blank canvas for Jared, Jensen was more than willing to be the one to guide and nurture. It was though at the very moment that Jared tucked his fingers between Jensen’s ass cheeks that the author realized that he was willing, no not even willing, he wanted to give every inch of himself to Jared. And his wild, untamed man had been right, it wasn’t about submission or weakness or anything that would demean Jensen. It was simply about giving yourself over wholly and equally. Jensen arched as Jared’s fingertips grazed over his ass hole but then rolled his body back into the touch.

“Too dry.” Jensen said hoarsely, huffing the words between Jared’s lips who caught the vibrations against his tongue. His fingers were dragged away, sliding over the curves of Jensen’s bottom. Not in anyway ready to fumble about for lube, Jared sucked two fingers into his mouth before leaving a trail of saliva over Jensen’s shoulder who then captured Jared’s lips in a wet kiss as the dripping, slippery fingers were pushed inside him. They barely disappeared any further than the bed of Jared’s nails at first, Jensen had tensed but hadn’t noticed. Jared had but did nothing more than kiss the tension away as he stretched Jensen open slowly. “Been a while.” Jensen smiled against Jared’s lips.

“How long?” 

“Twenty one years.”

“And yet you tell me that you move on and constantly forget.” Jared grinned and Jensen laughed. “Fraud.” He whispered, kissing Jensen again through soft laughter. Jared held his fingers steady, still perceptive to Jensen’s thoughts and needs allowing the author to decide how fast/slow, shallow/deep he wanted to go.

“Only you.” Jensen grunted, gradually getting used to the intrusion. He shut his eyes, curling his fingers around Jared’s shoulder as he sunk back, shivering at the intimacy. There had always been something more powerful through the use of hands and mouths during sex for Jensen. Tongues and fingers were the tools of the trade when it came to being human. The words you used and the gestures you make to communicate.

“I want to lick you there. Can I do that?” Jared muttered, although fascinated by the tight, wet warmth of Jensen’s insides. He wanted to see and taste.

“Yes.” Jensen nodded.

“Get comfortable.” Jared pulled his fingers free and laid back in all his naked glory. He was still grazed up one side of his body and the bruising around his hips was now yellow but neither took away the sheer majesty of his body. Jensen pulled himself up to his knees, he took a moment.

“Four weeks of no cycling and home cooked food, yet you still look like a God.” 

“It’s called The Messiah Metabolism.” Jared smirked, watching Jensen laugh loudly and turn to face the headboard, knees kicking away fluffy white pillows. Jared reached up and dragged a paw over Jensen’s ass, swiftly pulling himself up to kneel behind Jensen. His hands then went everywhere, tugging at flesh and dipping into dips and dimples. Jensen tipped his head back onto Jared’s shoulder, one arm coming around to grasp the back of his wild man’s head. Jared kissed his neck, noisy sucky kisses as Jensen tilted his eyes and caught their reflection in the mirrored closet. 

“Look at us.” Jensen whispered. His own cock was heavy and bobbing but nowhere near as erect as Jared’s, giving the man a delectable silhouette. Jared looked at Jensen in the mirror, mouth still grabbing at the flesh between Jensen’s neck and shoulder.  
“Keep watching.” Jared hummed the words out, hands moving over Jensen’s hips and manhandling him in such a rough way that would have had old Jensen scolding him for assuming that he wanted to be thrown about in bed that way. He did, the secret was that he always had but nobody had ever been worthy of the task. Until now.

Jensen was heaved and molded onto his hands and knees, while Jared pressed himself between Jensen’s thighs. He lifted his ass up with no prompting which was enough of an invitation for Jared to poke his nose about Jensen’s wet ass hole. The authors eyes flew open, his jaw dropped into an unflattering loose loose-lipped shape as Jared’s perfect pointy nose probed and sniffed. Jensen thought he would perhaps die right there but Jared’s tongue tore Jensen’s mind away from ideas of expiring. The licks were gentle a first, wholly exploratory but no less arousing. Jensen could feel the tickle of Jared’s beard against his taint and the slowly building wetness there, imagining how good Jared would taste when he kissed him again. The tip slipped inside despite Jensen still being tightly closed shut, willing himself to relax and allowing himself to open up just a little. Jensen had to steady himself against the headboard, arms wrapping over the top as Jared grunted his way through a succession of rough jabs with his tongue until the author felt the muscle slide right inside him.

Jensen couldn’t tear his eyes away from the closet mirrors, mostly due if not all to Jared who ate and ate, licked and spat like a hungry man. 

“Fuck me.” The words came out so easy, so wanted. Jensen didn’t want to be the sole educator to a thirty-something virgin, he wanted to be the man who Jared joined with. The man who was giving Jared a part of himself that had long been denied to others. “Fuck me, because every part of me is yours.” Jared pulled away, flicking his hair back and resting his cheek against Jensen’s ass, nuzzling and kissing as they made eye contact in the mirror.

“Might not last long.” Jared said quietly.

“Don’t care, my darling.”

Jared had been made privy several days before as to the location of the lube and condoms Jensen’s had stashed away in his nightstand. He reached across the bed, laying on his stomach, pulling at the drawer which he managed to yank entirely from the nightstand, the drawer hit the floor, along with its contents. Jensen laughed as Jared found himself dangling from the bed, grabbing up little foil packets and various tubes of lube.

“Need help?” Jensen looked over his shoulder as Jared sat reading the back of a condom wrapper. 

“Do we need one of these?”

“It’s up to you. I’m clean.” Jensen smiled.

“You know I am.”

“Then don’t use one.” 

“All right. I won’t.” Jared tossed the condom on the floor and snapped open a bottle of lube which had the words ‘Back Door’ written on the label. Jared chuckled to himself while Jensen watched his reflection. Patience was a brand new virtue for Jensen who was more than interested, resting his chin on his arms, smiling to himself as Jared read the label and stroked his cock in silence. His head was dipped and his curling hair was tumbling over his face.

“I love you.” Jensen smiled, not meaning to distract Jared from his gathering of lube instruction. Jensen saw Jared smile.

“I love you too.” Jared flicked his head back, all hair and beard as he dribbled a generous amount of lube over his cock. Jensen was entirely rapt and he thought, nowhere near prepped enough to take Jared’s cock without some discomfort. The wild man of Maine was well-endowed. Not freakishly so but big enough to have Jensen clenching somewhat before his penis even found itself anywhere near him. Jared though was many things but dumb wasn’t one of them. He took it painfully slow which suited Jensen’s mood perfectly, arms draped over the headboard, perfectly blissed out as he was positioned with two large rough hands. So gentle and caring. 

Jared let out a noise akin to the sound a dog makes when it’s building up to a bark as he rubbed the head of his cock against Jensen’s ass hole. It felt smooth and firm with little give but he was more than able to work Jensen open with it. Slow, mannered circular movements over and over, each one ending with a coaxing jab. Jensen relaxed and willed himself to open just enough for Jared to breach the slowly forgiving ring of muscle. Jensen sucked in a breath, taking his mind to a place of trust and love. Jared was deathly quiet, rendered silent by his actions as if he couldn’t quite take it all in. Another grunt as the ridge of Jared’s cock locked inside Jensen’s ass hole, followed by a succession of soft pants as he experimented with his hips. Jensen fought the will to clench and the sting was quite vicious until he watched Jared take up the lube bottle and squirt a generous amount over his cock and Jensen’s opening. It cooled the sting immediately and eased the sensation of inches of perfect dick sliding inside him.

“Oh, sweet Lord. Fuck.” Jensen muttered. “It’s perfect.”   
Jared held himself inside, still. The rest of his body was twisting as if to push out the will to ejaculate far sooner than he believed was fair. Jared managed a thrust or two, hips stuttering with inexperience before he came with such ferocity that Jensen felt the final rush of blood pulsing through Jared’s cock. In sync, they both cried out with a mix of pleasure and joy as Jared’s dick pumped out an inordinate amount of spunk, dumping every drop of it inside Jensen’s ass. The author felt _everything_ and he told Jared so.

“I can feel it. I can feel it all.” Jensen whined. Whined so loudly that at first it sounded like distress until he was pushing back with desperate little bounces on Jared’s cock. 

“Too much.” Jared muttered but did little to stop Jensen from inadvertently causing Jared to bottom out with a half hard dick. Jared cried out a second time which prompted him to scoop up Jensen’s body and wrapped his arms around him. They kissed with frantic passion, wet mouths and probing tongues, hands grasping and pulling until neither could stand the intensity of their being locked together. The pair came apart fast. Jared hissed as his foreskin caught against Jensen’s rim and Jensen shuddered at the sore drag it caused. 

Jensen could feel the cascade of come trickle down his thighs before he was able to lie down and catch his breath, while Jared flopped down next to him with a cock that looked just as ready as it had ten minutes ago.

“Oh that was a rush.” Jared laughed weakly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry is not the word.” Jensen smiled affectionately at Jared. “We have _all_ night. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t. Virginity and being around the sexiest man on the planet is just a recipe for premature ejaculation.”

“Maybe _that’s_ the book we need to write.” Jensen laughed. Jared creased up.

“I would read that book.” Jared smirked then rolled onto his side and ran a finger over Jensen’s chest. “I won’t always do that, will I?”

“No, of course not. Were you like it when you used to masturbate at home?”

“No. Never.” Jared shook his head.

“There you are then. It all depends on mood and situation. Sometimes it takes me longer and other times not long at all. Don’t worry about it, my darling.”

“Thank you.” Jared smiled. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

Jared cast his eyes down toward Jensen’s cock which was semi-hard and lolling around against his groin and neatly trimmed pubic hair.

“Ah, yes.”

“Make yourself come, I want to watch you.” Jared laid back casually as if Jensen had agreed. And of course he was going to agree, the desire to show off and ultimately orgasm was never going to go away.

“All right. If you insist.” Jensen laid back too, taking his cock up with one hand and tugging it upwards, squeezing gently around the head.

“Did you think about me when you jerked off after we first met?” Jared asked in such a polite tone, it made Jensen smile. 

“Yes.” Jensen bit his lip as Jared lifted Jensen’s free hand from the bed and kissed his fingers slowly, one by one. “Yes. Came very fast just thinking about you.” 

The author allowed his legs to fall open as he stripped his cock, unable to look anywhere else but at Jared, all prismatic eyes twinkling with vested interest. Jensen licked his lips which then fell into their natural full pout while Jared sucked on the tips of the author’s fingers one by one and it was all instinctive with Jared, everything he did came from him, not from tales told by high school friends or cliché porn moves. It was all just him, doing what he wanted to do and that alone was more than enough for Jensen to begin softly grunting as his climax slowly built. He arched his back from the bed and pressed his heels into the mattress which made his toes curl and the fingers being sucked intermittently into Jared’s mouth flex and bend. Jared nodded slowly, then lifted his head, eyes cast up as if it mimic Jensen’s building orgasm and that they were both gently being elevated from the bed from sheer bliss and rising toward Heaven.

“Jared.” Jensen grumbled the name out. “Jared.” On repeat as his pushed his back into the headboard. He straightened his legs, muscles stretching as he curled his fingers around Jared’s hand to gain some kind of purchase. His toes splayed and flexed as his entire body became taut. “Jared.” Jensen came, his fist almost a blur, jacking his cock hard and fast. Come spattered over his torso and chin, flicking this way and that, splattering over Jared’s legs. Jensen’s eyes rolled back but wasn’t able to unwind himself until he had milked every last drop of come from his cock. He twitched his way back down to earth, soft pants huffing through his parted lips as he finally sunk into the bed. 

Jared leaned over, the tips of his hair soaked up Jensen’s cooling come as he kissed his chest.

“I feel like an overused rubber band.” Jensen chuckled lightly, flinching with surprise while Jared licked up his mess with curiosity and care. “But I have in no possible way finished with you quite yet.”

“That’s good to know. After all, you did say we have all night.”


	18. Chapter 18

_Eighteen Months Later_

The day Jared had taken Jensen down to his secret library had been a day Jensen would never forget for the rest of his life. Past all the neatly lined up fishing rods and garden tools Jensen was invited down through a tiny claustrophobic trap door into what he at the time could only have described as a wonderland. The space was lit with soft golden lighting and was wall to wall, ceiling to ceiling books. Dozens of them, hundreds and hundreds. All carefully categorized, alphabetized and each one had been looked after with care. It was Jared’s underground weapons cache. His stash of ammunition that he had armed himself with in preparation for his first real experiences of the outside world. Jensen had expressed his sadness that Jared would be leaving it behind.

“The books and the knowledge will come with me. I can build another library.”

And he did.

In between lengthy coffee sponsored talks and note taking in preparation of Jensen writing Jared’s story, copious amounts of the kind of sex neither had believed was possible and sprucing up Bay Cottage to ready it for rental, Jared spent the time he wasn’t doing any of those things outside building his brand new not secret at all library on what was now his and Jensen’s land. He forewent glass but stuck with the cherry wood of Whitby, building a toning structure by hand and coming in every night covered in sawdust and sea spray. Jensen had made love to him dozens of times before allowing him upstairs to shower then spent a little time after humming and vacuuming wood chips and dust from the living room rug while Jared was upstairs washing away grime and spunk from his body.

Jensen hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the building, only to take Jared out sandwiches and coffee.

“You write, I build.” And who was Jensen to argue. Not that he was a princess but it was just what they did. Balanced one another out perfectly. The writer and the lumberjack, brought together to even out the universe.

The day of the library unveiling was Jared taking on ‘whirlwind’ status, dashing in and out of the house to gather Jensen’s books to add to the collection and two bicycle rides into town on his new adult sized mountain bike. They’d had their first disagreement about that bicycle. Jensen had purchased Jared a helmet online in fear of a repeat of his wild man’s accident a year and a half ago. Jared insisted he would be fine, Jensen couldn’t bear the idea of Jared not being a superhero made of metal after all. There were tears and Jensen threw a pen at the TV. Jared agreed to wear the helmet.

“How can I not look out of the window? Our entire house is made out of windows.” Jensen laughed but Jared was deadly serious.

“I don’t want you to see what I’m doing.”

“But I’ve watched you build the library from the ground up, I come outside and talk to you all the time, darling.”

“I know but just for today, don’t look. And don’t sneak a look while I’m in town. Please?”

“All right. I won’t look. I promise.”

Jared and Jensen’s relationship had caused quite a stir with the residents of Everfall. They had already set tongues wagging during the first innocent and quiet days of their courtship. Sitting outside Tiller’s drinking coffee in silence while gazing at one another. Everyone had seemed to like Jensen better. He had money, a career and was incredibly handsome. The idea of such a man pitching up with the smelly town eccentric was too much for people to take in. They would have been less surprised if Jensen had entered into a relationship with a llama. The witches of Tillers, a name Jensen coined and that Jared concurred with was a fitting group moniker, were the most disgruntled. The women averaged the age of forty-five and were typical of the type who lived in the affluent seaside town. They were bitchy and entitled and offended on Jensen’s behalf. The author had moved into the town and had become bachelor number one. No one there (except Jared and Maggie) had read The Titanium Heart despite the fact they knew he was a famous writer, so in turn they were ignorant to his sexuality. The town cougars had their claws out for Jensen from day one. When word got around that Jensen was gay, the witches of Tiller’s behaved as if Jensen had slighted them each personally which made him enemy number one. Worse still they had to endure seeing Jensen wander about town, holding hands with Everfall’s resident lunatic. Everyone else had embraced Jared’s entrance back into the real world, a few people even apologized to him and they looked upon Jared and Jensen as true members of the community. All except the witches who were even more put out at Jared’s transformation from unsanitary mute to a handsome, talkative heartthrob. Jared had always been handsome and talkative but only Jensen had ever noticed.

The point was, now Jared turned heads in a good way. He was still a giant, hairy sweat monster but his beard was mostly trimmed neatly and he paraded around town in shorts and fitted racer-back tank tops which displayed his muscle and golden tan skin. Before he had annoyed them by stinking out stores with his working mans stench, now he annoyed them because he was so damn gorgeous. He couldn’t win.

“They stare at me.” Jared had complained to Jensen one late May afternoon. Back from a trip in town to buy fishing line. 

“You’re sexy.”

“They used to be cruel to me.”

“So, rub it in their Botoxed faces. You’ve _always_ been sexy to me. All that beard and those manly pheromones.”

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” Jared smirked, looking down at Jensen who was squirming and wriggling like one of Jared’s freshly caught fish.

“Yes. Right here.” And he did, bending Jared over his work bench, tearing down his shorts with little grace and had his wild man outside and with the soundtrack of screaming seabirds over their heads. 

*

“Are you ready?” Jared was resting his chin against Jensen’s shoulder who was typing with one hand, the other holding a finger aloft to silence Jared while he finished up. A jaunty jab at Ctrl + S and Jensen was spinning around on his chair, almost knocking Jared over.

“I am.” 

“Put this on.” 

“Oh, kinky.” Jensen smirked as Jared immediately covered his eyes with a blindfold, a real one Jensen noted. Black silk and probably purchased online by Jared during one of his late night spending sprees. Jared enjoyed internet shopping _a lot_.

“Later.” Jared grinned, tying the blindfold around Jensen’s head and helping him to stand.

“I don’t have anything on my feet.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Jared laughed and without warning, lifted Jensen up and threw him over his shoulder.

“I don’t like it.” Jensen laughed, now upside down, blind and bouncing around on Jared’s shoulder like a bale of hay.

“Yeah, you do. You love it.” Jared smirked.

“You are irritatingly correct. Again.”

Jared carried Jensen outside who was gripping onto the back of Jared’s shorts for dear life, increasingly disorientated and grappling with a burgeoning erection. He groaned as Jared walked down the steps of the house and yelped as his ass was bitten through his own shorts to silence him.

“Embrace the domination.” Jared said loudly, a little choice phrase he had put together every time Jensen insisted on resisting Jared’s dominant advances. Jensen was eventually reintroduced to terra firma with a bump. The grass under his bare feet had been warmed by the July sun. Jared turned him around, hands grasping his shoulders. “Ready?”

“I am.” 

Jared untied the blindfold, whispering a softly spoken ‘ _Ta-Da_ into Jensen’s ear.

The structure was wrapped in a huge red bow, the fabric stretching around the building. The double doors which had been folded back filled the library with sunlight. Two comfortable loungers were set out on the small porch with a small occasional table between on which sat two cups of coffee Jared had brought back from town.

“I don’t know what to say.” Jensen muttered, blinking as he took in the oasis of literature. “It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to untie the ribbon? I thought about buying a pair of those huge ceremonial scissors but I don’t have any more plans for grand unveilings.” Jared laughed.

“I would love to.” Jensen stepped up onto the porch, tugging at the gigantic bow. “Does it have a name?”

“Not yet. I thought, since you’re the writer, you could name it.”

“Oh, pressure.” Jensen chuckled, taking his time to think. “On this day, July 14th. I declare the ‘Whitby Library and Coffee Drinking Club’ open.” He grinned at Jared’s reaction to the name before unraveling the bow which fluttered to the ground around the circumference of the building.

Jared clapped and whooped, joining Jensen on the porch. They took their first steps inside together hand in hand. Every shelf was rammed with books, each one in its rightful place. And there was a row of shelves for every subject imaginable. Biographies, crime novels, travel, history et al. Each one of them lovingly chosen and read by Jared.

“It means a lot to me to have you stood here with me in amongst all of this.”

“Why?” Jensen asked through an affectionate smile, even though he knew, he liked to hear it.

“Because all of these books lead me on a path which had you at the end of it. If I hadn’t taken up such an avid interest in reading, you and I were less likely to have met.”

“I suppose you’re right but remember. The first time I saw you was the in the drugstore.” Jensen said, still on occasion practical but he was learning.

“Would you have preferred that I built a pharmacy?” Jared smirked, gripping Jensen around the waist.

“Oh stop it. You know what I mean. I am sure, one hundred percent sure that I fell in love with you the moment I clapped eyes on you. I’m _sure_ of it but you are right, I did find you infinitely more attractive when I discovered your love for reading. It’s just sexy isn’t.”

“Maybe I should have put a bed in here too?” Jared chuckled.

“Lack of a bed never stops us.” Jensen winked, pulling away from Jared’s tight grip to peruse the shelves. “This place is truly remarkable. You’re so clever.”

“Thank you, I’m pleased you like it.”

“I do. It’s wonderful.” Jensen gasped as his eyes were drawn to the lights hanging from the ceiling, little yellow bulbs swinging in the breeze coming from outside. “It’s going to be so cozy in the winter. You’ve really thought of everything.”

“I have. I’ve got a space heater ready and waiting in the back. Blankets too and I bought us a Thermos each so we can snuggle down here without having to run back into the house for coffee.”

“I can hardly wait for the colder weather now you’ve told me that.” Jensen took a step back, turning around to take it all in once again until his eyes fell on Jared. “You’ve changed my life.” 

“I know.”

“This is the kind of thing that always happened to other people.”

“I know. And now it’s happened to us.”

“I wasn’t doing a very good job at being alive before I met you. I thought I was. Whistling along to my own tune, so sure about what I wanted, so stubborn.” Jensen laughed lightly, eyes cast down. “You have shown me what it feels to be humble, to appreciate such simple things. My standards were set so incredibly high, or so I thought. And then you came along, my wild man of Maine and taught me to look at life in a more uncomplicated way. I fell in love with you without even thinking about it. I mean, I did because I couldn’t quite believe that what I was feeling toward you was love. And not because of who you were but because I was so sure that I was incapable of feeling it. And my God, being in love with you still feels like a blessing that I have no right to be a part of.”

“Don’t say that, sweetheart."

“It’s true. You have made me a better person, a patient person. You’ve softened me. And honestly, sometimes I feel like yes, I have been waiting for you. And that we were destined to be together. I believe in _all_ of those things because they have been presented to me in your image. You-” Jensen laughed softly then cried. “-Jared. Life can be hard when you have everything or nothing. But when it’s shared it really does feel like the kind of place I can live in quite happily, whatever it throws at us. Most of all, I’m happy for _you_ , my darling. Your strength and watching how much you’ve made your mark on this world has been the most incredible experience of my life. I’m so honored that I’ve been the one by your side.”

“Come here.” Jared grabbed Jensen, pulling him flush against his body. Jensen was quite used to being grabbed and manhandled. He didn’t hate it. He loved it. “Aren’t we both lucky to discover that life had more planned for us than we expected?” Jared was a ‘rocker’ too, gently turning his hips from side to side as he held Jensen in his arms. “You wanted more and were never satisfied because you hadn’t understood what it was that you craved so much. I wanted _something_ , _anything_. And yet we both ended up with everything. We both kept on doing life the way we had to at the time, something had to give.”

“I have never felt as happy as I feel right this very second.” Jensen said, looking up at Jared with glassy eyes.

“Me neither.” Jared grinned. “And do you know what?”

“What?”

“It won’t be the last time you say that. And it won’t be the last time that I agree.”

THE END


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